


Flowers of the Dead

by Raquiesha



Series: Death, Entropy, Life and Eternity [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2020-01-13 06:25:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 54
Words: 171,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18463328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raquiesha/pseuds/Raquiesha
Summary: Ferelden - and all of Thedas - is on the verge of turmoil.Elissa Cousland is, together with Alistair and Solona Amell, forced to fight against the corruption that spreads through the land as well as the Royal Court.Their mission will result in lives lost, challenged beliefs, changed morals and hearts conquered.And maybe this story might give us the final answer to the question;Is duty the death of love?





	1. (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo! My first fanfic eveeer. I can’t believe I'll give this a go!  
> I am both thrilled and nervous haha!
> 
> Yeah. Let's see where this is heading.🎉  
> If you comment and don’t want a reply for any reason, you may sign the comment with the word ”whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing except potential OC's

**9:21 Dragon**

**The Royal Palace, Denerim, Ferelden.**

Elissa’s heart fluttered as her eyes met with Leona Trevelyan’s form across the cramped ballroom.  The beating organ pounded against her ribs, its beats in tune with the joyous music that played in honor of their King’s 43rd birthday.

Elissa could hardly contain a most sheepish smile when Leona bowed to the king. She looked resplendent. How long had it been since they last met?

Too long.

She was quick with turning her yearning eyes down her chalice. To allow herself to keep gazing upon her lover would have been foolish. The surrounding press of bodies would never be their hiding place or sanctuary. Whispers behind poised hands were deadlier than poisoned daggers.

And Elissa knew that, in this room of celebration, her eyes were naught but prisoners of civilized war, her heart chained by societal standards, her mind not her own, belonging to the will of her peers.

Elissa closed her eyes, feeling dizzy. Why was she not allowed to be who she desired?  In a burst of rebellion -- pacific defiance, the only defiance she knew, she raised her gaze, landing on Leona yet again.  She was standing next to her great aunt, Lucille Trevelyan, conversing with nobles dressed in the fur of threatened species. Elissa hoped that Leona knew to seek her out, when the cue of people she had to greet narrowed down.

On the walls, trophies of kills were displayed, the beads in their blinded eyeballs watching the wickedness of the royal feast.  This banquet was not more than an illuminated graveyard, with nameless tombstones swirling around the dancefloor, decorated in the vivid colors of Satinalia.

 

It was far from the first time the Cousland family, consisting of the Teyrn and Teyrna of Highever and their two children, Fergus and Elissa, had gone to Denerim to attend a luxurious feast. Only this time, it was different. Elissa hid her frown with her glass as she remembered why. Fergus wanted to get betrothed.

“It is time, dear family,'' he had said with a wry smile one morning a few weeks before King Maric’s birthday, while the Couslands sat at their dinner table. “It is time for me to get married”.

His sudden statement had taken her by surprise.  Even if she knew that it was about time that the heir to Highever got married, she didn’t want anything to imperil their sibling bond. Their parents - Eleanor and Bryce Cousland, had, on the other hand, smiled and immediately hosted several gatherings and visited acquaintances with willing daughters and...  Well, it was no secret that they longed for grandchildren and future heirs that would fill Castle Cousland with life.

Elissa sipped on the sweet wine and smothered a grimace as she felt a bead of sweat trickle down her back.  The crowded room was indescribable warm, and as she let her gaze wander across the ballroom, she paused at a lady who cooled herself with an Antivan fan.  She must have sensed Elissa’s eyes upon her, because she looked right at her, and shut the fan immediately before sauntering away. Elissa averted her gaze, her cheeks heating, and continued to let her eyes roam.

In the middle of the dancing crowd, her friends Anora Mac Tir – the only daughter to Teyrn Loghain, and the Fereldan Crown prince Cailan Theirin whirled around in a formal dance, sending each other small smirks. Their backs were straight and their chins tilted up. True aristocrats down to the very marrow. Still, Elissa tensed at the sight.  Even though Anora had told her that they held no romantic feelings for one another, they seemed… content, satisfied, even, with their lot.

Marital satisfaction? Elissa was close to snorting at the thought. It was something she never would achieve.

She began striding across the room with careful but unwavering steps, seeking for Leona who had vanished from her sight  . Amongst all guests, she saw Fergus strutting around. Adorned with a charming smile, he mingled with the yet unmarried women. Elissa clenched her jaw at the display, before remembering where she was.  Here, he no longer was the jesting brother she looked up to, no; here he was a noble, a handsome bachelor whom the ladies flocked around in hope to gain not only his hand but also wealth and title.

Teyrns and Teyrnas were, after all, second only to Kings, and with only two teyrnirs left in Ferelden, it was a rare opportunity for fortune-seekers.  It was obvious that the low-born nobles were especially obtrusive, and the sight forced Elissa to stern herself not to eye roll. Fergus didn’t seem to mind the attention at all.

She continued sipping her wine and shifted her attention from Fergus to the rest of the attendants.  She recognized several of them, including King Maric’s two brothers-in-law, the Bann of Rainesfere and his older brother the Arl of Redcliffe.  Eleanor had with sparkling eyes told Elissa that the arl once had caused a scandal by marrying an Orlesian noblewoman.  It had almost ruined his relationship with his sister, the late Queen Rowan, and of course, her husband King Maric.

Elissa sighed. While she was not much for gossip, it was a crucial part of her life.  She had been taught that plots and uproars could be hindered, bastards discovered, alliances founded or crumbled because of the whispered words.

Nathaniel Howe, one of Fergus’ best friends and oldest son to her father’s comrade-in-arms Arl Rendon Howe, nodded a familiar greeting to her as they were about to pass each other. She tensed as he paused his steps, hesitated, as if he was to say something. What if…?

“Lady Cousland”, he said.

_No, no, no..._

“Lord Howe,'' she said, fingers pressing harder around the chalice.

His eyes twinkled, and Elissa relaxed her grip at that, flashing a small smile. They had not met since the time he proposed, an offer she -- to her mother’s chagrin --  quickly denied. Elissa assumed that Nathaniel was as pleased with the outcome as herself.

“I thought you were still in the Marches?”, Elissa asked.

“Father wished me to attend…” he gestured at the room, “well, this. How was I to say no?”

“Oh”, Elissa said. “As you can see, Fergus was glad to come here”. A hint of bitterness colored her words.

Nathaniel smiled. It was a shame, she thought to herself, that she felt nothing for him. He was not only pleasant to rest one’s eyes on -- he would have been a good husband. Whoever got him to leave his life as a bachelor, was bound to be a lucky woman.

“I indeed can”. He gazed upon her brother, who emptied a chalice while speaking to the daughter to one of Denerim’s banns. “ Sadly, I am is still mending from an  utterly  severe case of a broken heart.” He dared to waggle a pointing brow, causing Elissa to let out a muted giggle. “I bid you a good evening, Ellie, and I hope we may meet again before my return to the Marches”.

“Something tells me that we will,” Elissa said with a genuine smile, “Nate”.

He inclined his head and disappeared in the breathing crowd of people. Elissa went to stand in a corner, waiting. With a flick of her wrist, she swirled her glass of red wine as she stood next to the wall, longing to lean against it. The courtly code hindered her, and she possessed no wish to break the etiquette.

As she stared down the glass, a hand brushed her shoulder. She stiffened.

“How pleasant it is to see you here, Your Ladyship”.

She knew that voice. Leona. A smile tugged Elissa’s lips, and she turned towards the honey voice.

“Likewise, my lady”, Elissa said, losing herself into her eyes. But only for a mere moment. They could not afford more than that.

Leona bowed, as the courtly creed required when greeting a higher-ranked noble. Elissa’s lips finally curled.

“Come”, she then whispered, her weak voice drowning in the sound of music and laughter. Elissa gave a subtle nod, and side by side, they began to walk through the throng towards an empty balcony.  Out there -- hidden behind heavy, embroidered curtains, they would find the temporary freedom they craved.

Their hands hang close,  nearly touching, fingers almost locked together. But a wailing void filled with responsibilities separated them.  When their bodies crashed into one another as they worked their way through the crowd, they continued to stare steadily forward, despite the longing screams of their shackled hearts.

It was first when they stepped out on the balcony, escaping the perfume-laden ballroom, their marching ended. Their straight backs slouched, their high chins sank. The moon glinted in their eyes, as they finally let down their guards.

Leona pulled Elissa closer, fingers digging into the thin fabric at her waist. Lips softened by wine met, but the kiss did not last long. Leona withdrew, panting for air.  She stared into Elissa’s heavy-lidded eyes, her vision disturbed by the nest of hair that had fallen down her face, escaping her bun.

_Maker, help me. How am I to tell her that what we have is coming to an end?_

A cool breeze hit them and pulled in the locks of their hair.  Leona tried to calm her beating heart, taking another deep breath, letting her lungs fill with brisk air. The floral scent of elfroot smoke wafted from Elissa’s locks. Leona smiled wanly, as she raised her hand, whirling a strand around her fingers.

_Will this very moment come back to point a square finger at me, telling me what I am about to do is a mistake? This moment, our last time. Oh, sweet Andraste, give me your strength._

Leona took a step back, leaning her back against the jagged stone wall. A brick chafed her back, threatening to tear the expensive textile of her dress apart. For once, she did not care. She needed the support, the stability. Yet, she readjusted her shoulders, moving away from the chafing brick.

Alright, she thought.  Maybe  I do care a little.

She then let out a heavy breath between her swollen lips, and decided to gaze right into Elissa’s eyes. Her stomach swirled, her palms grew damp. She opened her mouth, only to close it again. The murmurs from the ballroom dulled her ability to think, and she damned them for it. She turned her face, staring at the open doors. She could stay quiet and leave. Elissa did not need to hear this from herself -- the word would spread soon enough.

_Maker, I beg you. Help me._

“How have you been?”

The slight curl of Leona’s lips twitched. The sincerity in Elissa’s voice made it impossible for her to lie, to keep quiet. Elissa caressed Leona’s arm, the warmth of her palm radiating through the sleeve into her skin. Leona swallowed the lump in her throat. The lump did not disappear, instead, it grew larger, choking whatever words she could come up with. Thus, she answered only with a light squeeze on Elissa’s shoulder. Her heart picked up speed once again, punching at her ribs.

_Tell her. Tell her. **Tell her!**_

She swallowed twice, preparing herself to tell the truth, hoping that sheer force would make the lump disappear.

She succeeded, but her voice was rough, croaking. “Have you read my letter, Ellie?”

Elissa’s brows knitted. _Why is she acting so oddly_? She bit the tip of the tongue. No, she could not simply ask her. It would be folly -- she could not bring it to embarrass herself in front of Leona.

Instead, she asked, “Which one?”

“Silly…” Leona began. Her eyes flickered, her face blanched only to the next moment become rosy. “The latest one…”.

From inside the ballroom, they heard King Maric’s baritone voice fill the room’s every corner, silencing the music and laughter. Leona fidgeted, and listened, before returning all attention to Elissa. They did not miss a thing – it was only another wine indulged speech.

Elissa recalled what Leona a few weeks ago had mentioned. She and her little sister, Evelyn, had fallen off a horse, an accident that ended with Leona breaking her arm. Her eyes widened at the realization.

“Oh, Maker! Leona, I am terribly sorry! I forgot.”

Elissa’s eyes were downcast and her cheeks red, as she pulled back her hand from Leona’s arm, hoping their physical contact had not caused her any pain.

 

“Did a healer not take care of it?” A beat, and her tone grew accusatory. “You should have said something,'' she complained. Her lips thinned, and Leona could not help but snicker lightly.

“No, no, it is not that.” Her snicker died out, and she turned her head away, facing the illuminated castle garden. An owl hooted in the distance. “I am about to get… Oh. You will not believe me.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I-I am about to get married, with a Bowen, a second son. You do not know him”.

Elissa’s heart skipped a beat, her mouth slightly agape. It took a few seconds before she breathlessly could reply, “What?”. A pause. “You are doing what?”

The members of House Bowen, also Ostwickers, were even more religious and conservative than those of the House Trevelyan, a fact Leona’s grandmother, Lady Esme Trevelyan, appraised.

Elissa stood quiet, only to step away so that she could lean against the balcony parapet made of cold, grey stone. Leona paced towards her, and after throwing a look back into the ballroom, she placed a hand on Elissa’s lower back.

“We could always run away”, Elissa said, her voice raspy. “Orlais. Rivain. Antiva?”

“You know as well as I that we can not do that, Ellie. We always knew this day was coming.” Leona shook her head. “If not for me first, so for you.”

That was true. Elissa shivered and tears stung her eyes. The nobility’s heaviest burden was marriages of convenience. She blinked the tears away, smothering a sob.  Tears would only ruin her makeup, and that was something she refused to let happen while attending the Royal Palace.

Mother would have been proud to see me keep my face straight.

“Oh”. Elissa’s voice was sharp. “I know”. She glanced at Leona, not daring to look for too long. She was no longer hers. Her stomach writhed, and she clenched her jaw for a short moment. Has she ever been?

Elissa withdrew her hand from Leona’s waist, her chest aching more than she wished to admit.

In the ballroom, music and laughter rose once again, and Elissa was overwhelmed with the desperate urge to press herself against Leona for the last time, cupping her cheeks, place her lips against hers, not wanting to let her go. But she knew she would not.  She moved away, not more than a tiny centimeter, creating another universe of nothingness between them.

Leona noticed. We are lovers, she thought. Lovers, soon to be strangers.

Elissa closed her eyes. Not only her's and Leona’s hearts and minds were ruled by others. Their bodies were nothing but for trade -- sold to connect families, sold to produce heirs. A product of society. And neither of them would object. Because good and proper daughters’ did not. They obeyed. Obeyed like the dogs Fereldans loved.  Maybe, Elissa mused, that was why the dogs were so loved and appraised?

Leona’s bottom lip jugged out, but pulled back into the faintest of smiles. “I…”. She cleared her throat. “I  truly  wish we  were allowed  to dance.”

 

In the corner of Leona’s eye, a moving form caught her attention. Immediately she straightened her back, tilted her chin up. She looked in through the windows, where she spotted Lucille gesture for her to come back in. Leona shook her head, and Lucille raised a questioning brow.  Leona presumed that Lucille wanted her to greet some mediocre noble or wealthy merchant.  Her aunt took every opportunity she could to strengthen their family's merchant empire - a task now also carried by her.

After making sure Lucille had gone away, she let her fingers brush the back of Elissa’s hand. Elissa flinched from the touch. While Leona’s heart constricted at that, she would not give up. She let her fingers continue up her arm, to her shoulder, where she caught a lock of Elissa’s hair.  Briefly, she allowed herself to toy with it, wanting the moment to last a little longer.

_Please. Give me something to remember, something to cherish._

“Ellie”. Leona hitched a sob, a knot growing in her chest. “I am not doing this out of my own free will. Father says if I do not get married soon, he will send me to the Chantry. Ellie, I… You must understand! I am tired of being locked away from it all. Marriage is the only way to be free.”

When Elissa did nothing, said nothing, Leona let her hand fall.  Fearing her knees would buckle beneath her, she turned around, beginning to walk back into the throng of fur-lined velvet dresses and gold-embroidered tunics to meet with her great aunt.

“Marriage is  just  another prison, Leona.”

Elissa’s voice cut through the cool air, causing Leona to stop by the entrance. She looked back over her shoulder, letting her fingers curl into a fist.

“We will see”, Leona said slowly, shaking her head. “We will see in a few years, which one of us is the happiest”.

Then she left, with a courtly smile plastered on her face, prepared to meet whatever people Lucille wished her to.

Because she was good and proper.

 

Elissa did not know for how long she had stood there on the empty balcony, but long enough for the chilly air to make her shiver. She had tried to smother her sadness, thinking it was for the best that things ended between them. But in the end, tears had won and her cheeks were now damp and puffy.

Her hands clenched at the thought of Leona, even though she knew it was childish to feel anger. Leona had no other choice but to follow the will of Lady Esme Trevelyan. The children to nobles had no volition. Elissa swallowed. She was very well aware that she herself was like a free-roaming dog -- unleashed but owned, and if Eleanor and Bryce decided to arrange a marriage...

Footsteps clattered against stone, and Elissa’s heart began to hammer against her chest. With a careful smile, she spun around expecting to see Leona return to her.

It was not.

Instead, a few years’ older woman donned in armor came to stand in front of her, and she looked at Elissa with a concerned wrinkle between her brows.  Elissa blushed – she must have looked dumb smiling to a stranger like that, and mumbled something unintelligible before trying to step past her, back into the ballroom. The woman reached out a firm hand, and calloused fingers grasped around Elissa’s wrist. Elissa tried to yank herself free from the grip, but it was for naught. She was too weak, and the woman strong.

“Lady Elissa Cousland, I presume?” the woman asked with a gentleness not matching the tight grip she held. Elissa nodded with her brows furrowed, and the woman in armor performed a half-bow.

Elissa let her eyes wander from her wrist along to the other woman’s hand,  slowly following the armor covering her arms. She did not stop until her gaze rested on the newcomer's face. Her face was nothing like Leona’s. This woman’s face was a bit weathered, and a red, glowing scar crossed her cheekbone.  Some feral strands of night-black hair framed her features, escaping the simple ponytail that kept the rest of her hair out of her face.

The woman's bronze eyes were soft like the edge of a blunted dagger -- as if they were not used to show sympathy.  The light from inside the ballroom reflected in the armor that was polished to perfection. By her hip, there hung an impressive sword sheathed in its decorated scabbard. Elissa’s eyes lit on a part of the decoration she knew well. The insignia belonging to House Mac Tir.

The older woman chuckled lightly at the wide-eyed girl, and patted the sword’s pommel.

“You may call me Daryn, if you’d like, and you may call her the Summer Sword”.

The woman then let go of her wrist and Elissa’s muscles relaxed as she exhaled in relief. She remained still, not sure if she wished to go inside. Who was this woman, and more importantly  \-- what did she want?

Elissa nodded again, her tongue feeling numb. “Well… Um…”.

Her face grew scarlet, and she hid her mouth behind her freed hand, faking a cough. She hoped that Daryn with the Summer Sword had not heard her stammering.

“Of course… Ser?”, she tried, wishing another chill breeze soon would come to cool her warm face. “Pardon me for my rudeness, but I am not sure what title to address you.”

Daryn leaned her forearms against the stone balustrade. The metal covering her arms clang as it hit the rough stone, and Elissa gritted her teeth. By the sound of it, the perfect-conditioned armor should have received a scratch.

Daryn, however, did not seem to either notice or care.

“Ser is correct, Your Ladyship. I’m in Teyrn Loghain’s service,” Daryn answered coolly. She had seen Elissa many times when she and her family visited both Gwaren and Denerim. “  Maybe you know of me as Ser Cauthrien”.

She hesitated a little, her eyes lingering on Elissa’s damp cheeks, before bringing out a handkerchief  .  She proffered it to Elissa, who with trembling hands accepted it and turned away, wiping her face with a motion that made her look younger than she was .

“Thank you”, Elissa's lips curled upwards in a wan smile as she returned the cloth. Daryn looked at the damp handkerchief in her hands. It was smudged with kohl. "And you assume right, Ser Cauthrien.”

Elissa swallowed, trying to contain her voice so it would not rise in awe. Everyone in Ferelden had heard the legendary tales of Ser Cauthrien. She was the most important shieldmaiden in Ferelden.

Her contained voice was suppressed and it almost became too leveled, leaving Daryn with the impression that she was another bored, young noble hoping to have a bit of fun.

Elissa tilted her head as her hands brought out a pipe. She put it between her lips, her gaze fixed on the blend as she lit it. Soon enough the herbs glowed, and a small pillar of smoke rose in the cold air.  Daryn let her gaze follow the clouds of smoke until they dissolved against the shimmering sky, glad that the wind did not blow in the ballroom's direction.

The silence lay dense, and after a while, Daryn decided it was time to get straight to the point on why she had joined her on the balcony.

“Lady Cousland, I apologize for being so blunt, but I fear that I must ask a favor of you”.

Elissa coughed -- for real, this time -- and her face contorted into a frown. Thick smoke fled her mouth, wanting to leave the scene. Elissa envied the cloudy puffs - she was as eager as them to go away.

Daryn laid a steady hand on Elissa’s upper arm - halting any escaping attempts, and bore her eyes into hers.

“Please, be more careful. We are unfortunately not in Orlais, and I would not like to see your honor stained”.

Elissa stared at Ser Cauthrien for a few seconds, before a burning flash of anguish ran through her.  With quivering hands that threatened to betray her, she managed to take another puff from her pipe. Her lips prickled.

Soon, the soothing inhalation made her feel as if her mind became embedded by a pleasant fog. She relaxed once more, her trembling hands stilling. For a divine moment, she felt as if she was wrapped in a cloud.

Elissa stared at the shining breastplate. It looked soft… safe. Could it be real? She was overcome with the urge to touch it, to make sure such a piece truly existed in the realm of the living.  Without further thinking, she brought her free hand to Cauthrien’s breastplate and let her fingers drift across the cold metal. Daryn watched her action with a puzzled glance.

“Ser Cauthrien”, Elissa finally managed to speak with a mouth drier than the Western Approach.  Her fingers trembled anew as she lowered her hand – the untouchable cloud had dissolved into smoke that threatened to suffocate her. She nervously fidgeted with the signet ring she wore, trying to keep her nerves at bay. “I beg you. Do not tell anyone of what you witnessed. She  is betrothed …” Elissa trailed off, shuddering.

Daryn removed her hand from Elissa’s shoulders. Her palpable anxiety made Daryn tilt Elissa's chin upwards with a gentle movement.

“I promise, lady Cousland. No one has to know.”

Daryn’s heart ached a little – she was well familiar with Elissa’s fear.  The fear of being caught and recognized as a sodomite - someone perverted - amongst Ferelden’s nobility.

“I… I happen to recognize what you are going through. '' A beat, and Daryn decided it was for the best; "I have been there myself”.

Elissa stood quiet for some time, inhaling some more elfroot as she studied the heavenly constellations, pondering what Daryn confessed.

A giggle rang through the air.  She stiffened and her head spun towards the couple that stepped out on the balcony before goggling at them, noticing they were not alone.  With flustered faces, they excused themselves before walking back in, leaving Daryn and Elissa by themselves again.

The balustrade was rough and the cold stone stung her palms when she leaned her hands against it,  painfully aware that Daryn watched her every move.

After a while, a faint smile grew upon her lips and she boldly looked at Daryn who immediately knew what the young woman was about to ask.

“Ser…”, Elissa began, something sparkling in her eyes, “may I train with you tomorrow?”

 

 

*

 

 

**9.25 Dragon**

**Denerim**

While Anora’s eyes narrowed, the ends of her lips twitched upwards. “I gave you this one, Ellie”.

Elissa scoffed, dusting off her pauldrons. “If you say so, Your Magnificent Highness”. She reached out a gauntleted hand. “Best out of three?”

When Anora hesitated to grab it, one of her guards stepped forward, ready to aid her. She waved him off and clasped her hands with Elissa’s.

“Not today, I am afraid. Cailan and I are to ride this afternoon”. She huffed as Elissa helped to heave her up, and she wiped away some sweat from her brow. “ I believe he wishes to speak about our coronation, now when Maric is…”. She paused, her eyes glistening. “Well. I do hope father soon will find him”.

“Do you believe the rumors?”, Elissa asked, removing the gauntlets and tossed them on the dusty sparring ground. “That the Orlesian’s have him?”

“Ellie”. Anora lowered her voice. “Shush. Do not speak of such things.” She sent her small army of guards a quick glance. While they kept their distance, they stood vigilant, watching her with keen eyes. Anora sighed. They were probably more her father’s spies rather than anything else. “But no,'' she added in a hushed whisper, her face turned to Elissa. She suspected the guards were trained in lip-reading. “  I think that father fabricates those lies, because he so deeply  wishes them to be true”.

“Hmph”. Elissa leaned down to bring up the blunted sword from the ground, sheathing it. Its hilt, warmed by the sun, burned her palms. She looked at Truce who lay panting in the shadow from a tree. She herself could not wait to get out of her heavy armor and take a refreshing bath.

Anora sheathed her own blade. “I received word that Ser Cauthrien should  be expected  to arrive today.”

Elissa’s eyes darted to Anora. “You did?” she asked, a little too quickly, a little too eagerly. She felt her cheeks heating, and hoped her face already had reddened from their sparring.

If Anora noticed the eagerness in the question, she was merciful enough not to show it.  Elissa watched as Anora pulled off her gauntlets and dragged the locks of hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear. A part of her wanted to ask Anora if she knew about her and Daryn’s tryst, but knew she could not. If the knowledge of their affair leaked out, the Cousland name -- as well as Cauthrien’s -- would be damaged, stained. Something in Elissa’s chest constricted at the thought. Somehow, the Cousland name was not as important as her parents’ opinion of her. If Bryce and Eleanor found out… would they still love her? Would Fergus?

“Yes”, Anora said, her ice-blue eyes meeting hers. Her face was, as always when she wanted to, unreadable. Elissa squirmed beneath her gaze.  She did not like it when Anora had the upper-hand, not when she herself often struggled with keeping a straight face.

“Father sent me a message saying that she is returning to temporarily take his place as the general. Now when Cailan is to become king… and I queen, we need to have a functioning army.”

 

“... If anyone thinks otherwise”. Elissa sterned her face. “I would rather let my head roll than deny you or Cailan what is yours”.

Anora smiled faintly. “I know,'' was all she said.

“Poor Cailan”, Elissa murmured. “First Rowan, and now Maric. I can not even imagine losing my parents.”

For a second, something that resembled sorrow flickered over Anora’s face.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. But you know Cailan.” Anora dropped her gauntlets to the ground, her eyes downcast. “He is not able to manage this… situation,  admirably. And rather than seeking my comfort, or his uncles’ advice…”, Anora shrugged.

Elissa stood quiet, chewing her lip. “He seeks it in your lady-in-waiting?”

Anora tensed, her eyes boring into Elissa’s. It appeared as her lip trembled, but when she spoke, her voice was steady. Elissa thought she must have imagined it.

“And Bann Franderel’s daughter. And the girls at the Pearl. And apparently, at least one from the Alienage. Yet... I love him.”

“He will be your king.”

“Stop it, Ellie. He means more than that. He is _Cailan_. Our Cailan. You do remember him, do you not?”

Elissa took a step towards her, putting a hand on Anora’s shoulder. “I do remember”, she said, face softening. “You mean more to him than anyone else, ‘Nora. It is your counsel he seeks, not theirs. He ambles the gardens with you, not them. And we both know how much he detests walking.”

Anora put her hand over Elissa’s, a sad smile gracing her features.

“Thank you. I needed that.” She then straightened her back. “Will you meet me tomorrow, to try out some new dresses? If you are to be my new lady-in-waiting, Maker knows you need some.”

Elissa whistled for Truce, and he immediately came running to her side. He sent Anora a glare, causing Elissa to smile. He had not yet forgiven Anora for saying she preferred cats over dogs. The irony in that the becoming queen of Ferelden liked cats more was not lost on her.

“Hah, of course,'' said Elissa. “Send me a messenger when you find some free time”.

Anora gave her a long look, her face inscrutable. “I will not have too much to do.  Maybe  it is better if it is you who send word for me.”

Elissa’s brow wrinkled. “Why?”

Anora whirled around, preparing to leave, looking back over her shoulder. A servant boy scurried forward, picking up her gauntlets. Her guards squared themselves and saluted, ready to accompany her.

“From the information given to me, I received the impression that Ser Cauthrien wished to lecture you on a foreign battle stance.  I would not want anyone to interrupt your important training”, said she and sauntered away, her entourage in tow.

Elissa, with one hand petting Truce’s ear, froze as she stared after her.

 

 

*

 

The sun had set and darkness cradled the city of Denerim.  Only flickering lanterns lit the alleys and streets, shining like stars in the distance.  Elissa leaned against the window frame, her breath fogging the cool glass that protected her from the harshness the capital’s streets at night could offer.

Elissa liked the nights.  Her gaze followed a patrol walking down the streets, their murmurs and clanking footsteps traveling through the air. This was the only time she could be to be herself, the only time she was allowed to actually find out who this ‘herself’ was.

Humming on a melody Nan used to sing to her as a child, she brought up her pipe and lit it, the window ajar. She glanced at the naked woman who laid over the sheets, reading a book in the light of the crackling hearth.  While Daryn could take an occasional puff from the pipe, she was not fond of having the smell lingering in her private quarters for too long, saying that it did not look good for one of Loghain’s closest men to smoke elfroot, a lieutenant at that.

Daryn raised her bronze eyes from whatever she was reading, landing on Elissa. “What is on your mind?” she asked.

Elissa shrugged her shoulders. “I have just missed you”, she said, simpering.

Daryn’s eyes softened, small wrinkles appearing at the edge of her eyes. “And I have missed you.” She patted the mattress, closing her book. “Come here, my dove.”

Elissa went to the sooty hearth and emptied her pipe before sliding under the sheets, placing her head on Daryn’s bare chest.  Her fingers mindlessly began to trace her abdominal muscles, pausing at the elevated scars, while Daryn scratched Elissa’s scalp with slow circular motions.

It did not take long for Elissa to get over her first flame, Leona. A week after Leona’s eighteenth birthday she and that Bowen boy got married. With that, Leona stopped responding to Elissa’s, no more than friendly, letters.  Leona had made a choice and now Elissa told herself that Leona was nothing but a memory, something that belonged in her past.

Now, Elissa was with a real woman, who knew so much more about life and the pleasures of the flesh. Elissa grinned as the welcomed elf root daze filled her. Daryn would never get married for prestige or status, no; instead, she fought for her position. Earned it. Ser Cauthrien was all about duty, honor, and loyalty. All which were traits that Elissa awed.

Daryn’s hand stilled. “I  just remembered,'' she said and jumped out of the bed.  She leaned down to her clothes that were scattered all over the floor and searched in her pockets until she found what she sought and brought out a letter. “This came for you earlier. I told the messenger I could bring it to you”.

Daryn handed Elissa the letter which was sealed with wax, marked by the Teyrn of Highever’s unique sigil.

Elissa’s brows knitted together, and her eyes flickered between the letter and Daryn. “Why would the messenger give you this?” she asked.

It was without any judgments and questions Daryn replied, “When he could not find you, he sought for me, knowing I  probably  would know about your whereabouts.”

Elissa’s cheeks reddened. “Oh.”

Well – Daryn was loyal to her liege and country, at least.  They had never promised each other exclusivity, which Elissa thought was fine because Daryn was away quite often. But when she was here, in Denerim, Elissa knew that her knight never looked at anyone else but her.

As time went by --  slowly, when Daryn was not around and Anora busy with her responsibilities, Elissa had dared to make a few acquaintances herself. She was not proud of the fact that she had become a regular down at The Pearl (and it was probably just there -- at the Pearl -- she was when the messenger wished to deliver her the letter), but she was proud over her discretion.

Elissa would rather die than bring shame upon the Cousland name. Daryn and Elissa were alike on that matter – they both valued reputation. 

Cauthrien fell back down on the bed and kissed Elissa’s neck, and Elissa ripped the letter open, unfurling it. After reading it, Elissa took a deep inhale, and stared into the hearth's dancing flames.

Daryn took the opportunity to drink in Elissa’s naked body; let her fingers trickle up her lover’s spine. Elissa looked radiant in the red light from the fire - she was a natural beauty with her waist-long chestnut hair.  Her face had a breathtaking set of cheekbones, and Daryn could not help herself from leaning forward to plant a light kiss on her proud jaw that almost always was held up high; a manner Daryn had found that most bluebloods inhabited.

Elissa did not turn her face towards her, but continued to stare into the flames, hands still on her knees.

“What did your father write?”, Daryn asked after a while.

Elissa let out a sigh before she muttered; “Fergus is getting wedded in a few days. I can not believe I have not heard of this earlier”. Still focused on the sizzling fire, she began to stroke Daryn’s cheek with the back of her hand.

Daryn knew how close the Cousland siblings were, and Elissa had told her more than once that she was afraid that he getting married would put an end to that.

“Father wants me to return to Highever to attend the marriage…”, Elissa paused and bit her lip, fearing it would quiver. “He does not want me to return here. He says that he and mother would appreciate it if I resumed my studies. He – eh,  I think it is better if you read it yourself”.

Elissa handed the letter to Daryn, who skimmed through it.

“So, people are talking”, Daryn said flatly after she put down the parchment. She listened to Truce’s snores, Elissa’s irregular breaths, and the fire’s sparks. With them gone, her chambers would be awfully quiet. She shook her head. 

“I have  really  tried to be careful”. She buried her face in her hands and Cauthrien’s always square stature drooped to an unfamiliar one.  This was the first battle in a long time, she could not see herself win; they both were defeated with no opportunity to defend themselves. The malicious whispers could be their end. “Then you must leave, my dove. We… I can’t have you further scandalized. This was never my intent. I wonder how they found out...” She trailed off.

It was hard, but she tried to sound as indifferent she could.  Elissa finally turned her beaten eyes from the fire to Daryn, and they were filled with the anguish of being caught and defamed.

“Then I  shall, Ser”. The edges of Elissa’s lips twitched into a failed smile. Daryn embraced her and Elissa was glad to hide her face in her neck, not needing to feign any faux emotions. Daryn’s warmth radiated to her own skin, leaving Elissa with a false sense of security.

In this room, at this late hour, nothing bad could happen to them. All responsibilities were hours away. They had _now_.

Elissa sighed. She knew that it was time for her to accept her own fate,  just as Leona had accepted hers.  Elissa was not prepared to forsake her own family for love, and even if she was, she knew that Cauthrien never would allow it.

“Father wants me to  depart  tomorrow.”

“I know, Ellie,'' Daryn murmured, her hand stroking Elissa’s back. “I know. I… don't want to let you go. Let us have this moment.”

The next day, when the sun reached the zenith, Ser Cauthrien and Anora waved her goodbye as the carriage began to roll towards Highever.

She let her go.


	2. The Soldier and the Seawolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some peeps don’t like it when authors mention this but I am an ESL writer. This means that this work, as you might have already noticed (haha), won't be perfect in terms of grammar, flow, word-choices, etc.. 
> 
> I will occasionally edit what I have posted to improve it, but it is first when this work is marked as 'complete' it will be considered done (duh) -- and still by then it, of course, won't be perfect anyway.
> 
> I use writing as a tool to improve my English as well as my writing capabilities, and I do appreciate constructive criticism (very much, even!). So please, feel free to offer tips on how to correct the issues you come across.

**9.30 Dragon**

**Castle Cousland, Highever, Ferelden.**

_‘Fore the Seawolf’s ire, no man could stand_   
_Soldier felt his death was close at hand_   
_Two great steps back did he retreat_   
_And the cliff side crumbled 'neath his feet._

 

“Wake up, sleepyhead”. Iona shook Elissa mildly. “You have to sneak out now if you don’t want to get caught... again”.

Elissa growled and pulled the blankets tighter around her before opening her eyes.

“You drank even more than Lady Landra yesterday”, a fully-dressed Iona chuckled lightly, “so I understand if your head hurts. But you really need to get up, Elissa. Landra wishes to travel back to Denerim tomorrow morning, which means that my schedule today is quite hectic".

Elissa dragged herself up into a sitting position and moaned, tired and sickly. Bile soured her throat and she let heavy eyelids close over her dry eyes, praying to the Maker that the nausea would disappear.

Iona smiled wanly as she leaned over Elissa and kissed her cheek. Iona's loose hair tickled Elissa's neck, and her breath smelled pleasantly of mint. How long had she been awake?

“I have put your clothes there”, the elven woman pointed at a chair next to the oh so damn bright window, “and I suggest you take a bath so you can make yourself presentable. You… ", Iona smirked as she crinkled her nose, " _stin_ _k_.”

Elissa waved her off mockingly, managing to send Iona a mischievous smile despite the queasiness. “Ah, begone!". She had to clear her throat before continuing. "And - just so you know...". She winked her eye. "It is Truce and not I who smells”.

Iona snickered as she shook her head, disappearing out the door to meet her mistress. Elissa fell back down on the soft mattress, and it bobbed erratically. It was nice to be alone -- her every word was almost caught in the sticky web of viscous saliva that harbored her oral cavity. While she smacked her burning mouth,  Elissa thought about the upcoming evening. She hoped that she could pay Lady Landra’s charming lady-in-waiting a visit the following evening as well.

Ever since Iona lost her beloved husband to a fatal disease two years earlier, she had searched comfort in House Cousland’s favorite black sheep. They had quickly come to enjoy each other’s undemanding company.

Elissa buried her face in the crook of her elbow, trying to keep out the bright morning light. Lady Landra had always been a dear friend to Eleanor Cousland, and whenever Landra Loren visited Highever, or the Couslands’ visited them in Denerim, Elissa would seek Iona out. She had even met Iona’s daughter, Amethyne, who had come to be very fond of her. Elissa's chest grew warm as she thought about the child. She had already made plans to help the girl get a more than a decent position at Highever when she came of age.

Elissa blinked her eyes rapidly in a try to get her swimming mind to clear. Her eyelashes tickled the skin on her heavy arm, and Truce's bored huff forced her to get up from the heavenly bed that still smelled of Iona. Truce cocked his head, contently watching as his mistress finally got dressed. He waved his tail languidly as he followed Elissa back to her own quarters.

Upon arrival, she asked a passing servant for hot water and did as Iona kindly demanded her to do – she took a long, rose-scented bath.

 

*

 

“Aunt Ellieee!”, Oren shouted when he laid eyes on Elissa and Truce as they entered the dining room. How someone could sound so overjoyed when it was not even noon, Elissa would never understand. The young boy jumped down his chair and ran up to her. Elissa hunkered down and reached out her arms just in time for him to clash into her embrace. He squealed happily as she lifted him up in the air.

Fergus and Oriana remained seated at the table, holding each other’s hands. They smiled at the sight, and Elissa waggled her brows to them. Truce barked jealously as he watched the display. Elissa's gaze wandered to her mother, and her visage was shadowed. Eleanor did not even look up from her plate.

“Good morning”, Elissa greeted them while she did her best to keep her face away from Oren’s sticky fingers. Her breath now also hold a tint of mint, and it soothed her burning palate.

“Good morning, Ellie. How…" Oriana narrowed her sculpted brows, "are you feeling?”. The Antivan woman sounded worried, and Elissa casually fell down on a wooden chair with Oren still clinging his arms around her neck. “You do not look your very best”.

Elissa rolled her eyes at her sister-in-law’s well-intentioned remark as she petted Truce's head. He squinted contently.

“I do not  _feel_ like my very best”, she answered dryly and kissed Oren’s forehead before putting him down. It did not matter how much she loved her nephew -- the boy could be a whirlwind, and she breathed in of relief as Oren turned his attention to Truce. 

Fergus creased his brows at her answer, glancing at their mother who frowned.  

“Where is father?”, Elissa asked him while nodding thanks to the servant who placed a plate with pudding in front of her. The smell made her face blanch, and she pushed the plate further away. 

“Ehrm... I think he is out, preparing for Howe’s arrival”. Fergus released Oriana’s hand and lifted up Oren who now wanted to sit in his lap.

“Is Nathaniel coming as well?” Elissa snorted a laugh. “I would absolutely adore seeing Ser Gilmore beat him again. And," she added, "I firmly believe that Lord Dairren would..." - she wiggled her brows suggestively - " _enjoy_  a sight like that as well, if you do not mind me saying so”.

“Enough, Elissa!” Eleanor intervened nasally. Her eyes darted to her only daughter for the first time this morning. “Where were you last night? – oh, don’t you dare answer that”.  She pursed her lips. Eleanor had gone to Elissa’s bedchamber the night before in hope of a chance to talk, only to find that she was not there - doing Maker knows what. She had heard some most concerning rumors about Queen Anora’s inability to become pregnant. Eleanor shook her head. It did not take a lot to drive a young, divided country like Ferelden into a rebellion, and Eleanor had seen revolts that had been born from lesser problems than a barren queen. 

Oriana widened her eyes – it was a rare sight to see Eleanor lose her temper. She leaned down to her son and whispered in his ear, telling him that he probably should leave the adults alone for a while. Oren nodded to his mother. He could with a child’s intuition feel the tension that suddenly filled the room. Discreetly he slid down from his father’s knees and ran away without protests, with his nursemaiden at his heels.

Fergus' eyes were filled with sympathy as he looked at Elissa. Beneath the table, he squeezed his wife’s hand, trying to show her that she need not worry.

Elissa stared at her mother for what was not more than a split second before she looked away, but it felt undoubtedly like an eternity. Her heart began to beat against her chest. Elissa detested conflicts, and she detested the fact that she always was a disappointment to her parents. Nobles all over Ferelden were well aware of the shameful scuttlebutts that claimed she was a lady lover. Eleanor, and to a certain degree Bryce, had begged Elissa to marry, join the soldiery or even become a sister in the Chantry. Elissa had done neither, and now here she was, 22 years old, drinking and smoking and...

“I… I think I will go out to see what father is up to”. Elissa hurriedly left the dining room with slouched shoulders. Her cheeks burned as she could sense her family's gaze at her retreating form. She refused to begin this morning by bickering with her mother. Elissa opened the heavy doors which led her out to the courtyard before the concierge had time to react. The courtyard was crowded with servants, guards, horses and knights. In the midst of it all, she spotted her father. He stood tall, conversing with a Rivaini man. A man Elissa knew very well.

“Warden-Commander Duncan!”  Elissa accosted, and she couldn’t help but smile when she approached Bryce and the slightly older man clad in armor. Duncan, a Grey Warden, had grown up in Highever and was a childhood friend to her father. She had known him since a tender age, and considered him an uncle. “How pleasant it is to see you here”.

Duncan bowed slightly and returned her smile. “Good morning, Your Ladyship”.

“I hope your mother was not too hard on you, Pup”, Bryce said to her while putting a gentle hand on his daughter's arm – he noticed that she looked a bit dispirited despite her smile, and Eleanor had earlier that morning complaint to him about Elissa’s improper behavior... like so many times before. “You know she’s only worried about you”. Bryce’s voice was soft, and Elissa felt a faint blush creep back onto her cheeks as Duncan nodded in agreement.

Duncan didn’t know the full story, but knowing Elissa, he had his suspicions what bothered the Teyrna.

“And before I forget, Pup, Nan wanted me to tell you to go see her as soon you were able – she was quite hysterical”.  Bryce scratched his greyish stubble, pondering what could have made the old woman of steel upset.

“Well”, Elissa drawled – her mother would have scolded her for that as well, “It’s way too early to be berated at yet again, so I better hurry. Father, Commander”. She gave her father a quick kiss on his cheek and nodded Duncan farewell before she steered her steps to the kitchen where Nan resided. Elissa ended up spending the forenoon there, trying to calm down the older woman who was frantic after an encounter with rats.

Nan often seemed to be a fearless woman – Elissa admitted that she even could be somewhat intimidating at times, but if it was something that could frighten her, it was rodents. When Nan finally was composed, she offered Elissa some cookies and porridge while telling the young woman the story Elissa always wanted to hear as a small girl around bedtime.

_“Before our fathers’ fathers came down from the mountains a warhound was born to the elder bitch of a tribal chief. They named him Hohaku and gave him everything. He grew up a fine, strong pup, destined to be the partner of the chief’s eldest son. Hohaku grew prideful. The young hound became arrogant, taking food from his kin and warning them – in the way of dogs – that the chief’s family would punish them if they tried to attack him. Years passed, and the time for the chief’s son to take a war hound came closer. Hohaku’s pride swelled, and many people of the tribe came to the chief, quietly whispering of his dog’s bullying. With each complaint, the chief saw only Hohaku’s strength and pride, and sent his people away. But as his son grew, the chief watched more closely. The day might come when his boy’s life would depend on this dog. If the humblest of his people would not trust Hohaku, how could he?_

_When the day came, Hohaku sat proudly, waiting to be called. But the old chief chose Hohaku’s brother as his son’s hound. Hohaku was shamed, but felt no remorse. So great was his rage that he darted across the fire pit and bit the chief’s hand. The chief and his son struck at Hohaku, cursing him. The hound ran into the village, seeking shelter in the tents and kennels. The other dogs snapped at him, and the tribes people threw stones at him. Before the chief could reach him, the tribe had torn Hohaku apart.“_

Elissa smiled as Nan spoke with the gentle voice that so many times as a child cooed her into slumber, while she struggled to eat what she was served due to the lingering hangover; she hadn’t the heart to say no. It was Nan who had raised her – she was Elissa’s nursemaid before she became the castle cook, and Elissa often said that she was lucky to have not only one but two mothers.

“And the moral of the story is that I shall be aware of what price pride can bring”, Elissa smirked. “Mabaris may tear one apart”.

“Don’t be dim-witted, dear lass”. Nan shook her head, but she spoke with a mild tone. Her grey hair was like always tied in a strict bun - Elissa had only seen Nan with the hair down once, when she as a youngster had walked into her room while she bathed. Elissa remembered that she thought that she’d never seen anyone more beautiful than her – not even her mother who was renowned for her looks. Maybe, Elissa mused, it was because Nan was more like a mother to her than Eleanor was, who was busy ruling the teyrnship with Bryce. Nowadays, Nan looked frail and weary, but she still had a spark in her stern eyes.   

“Now, Ellie, go do something more useful than speaking with a boring crone like me”, Nan said after Elissa had finished her plate, before ordering an elven woman to wash the porcelain. 

“You are no crone, Nan. You are stunning”. Elissa hugged the old woman and Nan huffed, but returned the embrace, patting Elissa’s back with fingers thick and crooked from arthritis.

“No more cookies for you, lassie, when you’re lying like that”.

Elissa was indescribable glad she had Nan in her life – one could almost not believe that this hard-nosed woman accepted her and her ways more than Eleanor did.

 

Later that day, when the rain had subdued – it almost always rained in the Storm Coast - she sparred on the muddy ground with her friend Ser Gilmore, one of Highever’s soldiery’s upcoming talents. Dairren, Lady Landra’s son, watched them fight with their blunted swords wearing an amused smile, discreetly cheering for Gilmore. Elissa thought it was quite humorous – Eleanor had once insinuated that both Dairren and Gilmore would be decent husbands if they were not too low-ranked, but failed to see that Elissa wasn’t the only queer being within Highever’s mighty walls.

Eleanor no longer spoke about marriages for Elissa’s sake, though - she had given up her hope on seeing her daughter wedded. Elissa was ashamed by that and felt as if she failed not only her parents, but the Cousland name, only by being herself.

She no longer tried to be in Eleanor’s good grace.

 

Elissa let Gilmore win the round – he needed Dairren to praise him before leaving for Denerim. Elissa suppressed a knowing smile as Dairren slapped Gilmore's back. Gilmore wasn’t as fond of whores as Elissa, and who was she to let him become a eunuch already before Dairren went away? She swung her sword in the air as the two men left the sparring ground.

"See you later", she called after them. Dairren embarrassedly rubbed his forehead, while Gilmore only grinned at her over his shoulder, waving a gauntleted hand. 

Sweaty and weary, she was off to change her armor back to a gown, but found her family dining with their guests outside, while the rain blessed them with its absence. Eleanor - clearly in a better mood, gestured to Elissa to join them.

“... I was quite the battle maiden myself, in my day. But I think it was the softer arts that helped me land a husband”, Eleanor told a slightly intoxicated Lady Landra who snorted a laugh.

Oriana inclined her head in a greeting as she noticed Elissa, before she sent her mother-in-law a crooked smile. “Where I come from, a woman fighting in battle would be unthinkable". Elissa could listen to Oriana's Antivan accent all day -- especially now when she spoke with a silvery voice. Fergus, clearly not as impressed by his wife's accent, scoffed in response.

"Darling", he said, "from what I have heard, Antivan women _are_ quite dangerous."

Oriana gave her husband a playful hit on his upper arm before she refilled his cup. “With kind words and poison, maybe", she smirked softly and Fergus raised his brows, vividly gesticulating at his cup.

"And this says the woman who serves me my tea!" He chorted and leaned towards her, kissing the corner of her lips. Eleanor let out an amused puff of air through her nose, before sending Bryce an affectionate glance. It was first then she turned her gaze to Elissa who awkwardly stood next to them, with hands clasped behind her back.

“Come here, my girl”, Eleanor finally said to Elissa and reached out a hand to her daughter, not minding the dirt that covered her armor.

“Oh mother", Elissa jokingly frowned in response, "I’m hardly a girl anymore”. Elissa's eyes lit on Iona who sat next to Lady Landra, and Iona's lips were curled into a half-smile. Elissa knew that Iona was to tease her about this in private later, and she could not wait. Eleanor, unaware of the look that was exchanged between her daughter and Lady Landra's lady-in-waiting, laughed lightly. It was a delicate sound, and the stories said that men had proposed to her only after hearing it. 

“Indeed, my sweet Elissa!", Eleanor uttered, her voice turning softer with every syllable. "I turn my back and here you are, a fine young woman in your own right... But, that doesn't mean I have to like it.”

Elissa squeezed her mother’s hand, knowing this was the teyrna’s way to apologize.

Fergus' face got shadowed by a distant look in his eyes, and he emptied his steamy cup in a long drink before he rose up, estimating the time by studying the sun that hid behind dark clouds.

“Pardon me for leaving”, he told them, “but I fear that I have preparations I must attend to”. He was trying to sound tenacious rather than glumly. Oriana winced at his words, and sorrow painted her pleasant features. He proffered his wife a steady arm which she accepted, albeit reluctantly, as if she wished to postpone it. Oren, busy playing with a pile of crumbles, lifted his head and wrinkled his small nose, trying to understand the sudden change in the atmosphere.

“Come, my son”, Fergus commanded Oren softly, and the young boy cast Elissa a puzzled glance. She nodded to him, and with a high, dramatic sigh he slid down from the chair to join his parents. The three began to walk towards the castle, their footfalls heavy.

Elissa’s shoulders slumped, and she bowed her head and looked at the droplets that still clung to the blades of grass at her feet. How could she, even for a short second, have forgotten about the Blight that threatened to swallow them whole? Or even worse, how could she have forgotten that her beloved brother was to ride out and fight the horrible creatures Nan scared her from when she was young?

Elissa couldn’t blame this on her hangover, no, only her selfishness. Elissa lifted her head and met Duncan’s eyes. Ah, so that is why he is here, she surmised, to either recruit Gilmore or brief Fergus and Bryce about the upcoming battle against the darkspawn. Elissa clenched her jaw, and Duncan watched the muscles on her jaw twitch before Elissa remembered her place and let the mask of a diligent noble’s daughter become predominant.  

 _Sod it. I need a drink,_ she thought as Fergus and his family disappeared into their estate, where he was to prepare himself for his departure.She excused herself to those left at the table and sneaked into the wine cellar, hoping Nan wouldn’t notice and scold her. Elissa hurriedly grabbed a few clinking bottles and went to her private chambers where she changed from her armor to a simple but opulent, long-sleeved gown that followed the latest Fereldan fashion. As she went through her jewelry and put back on her signet ring it knocked on her door. She quickly hid the wine bottles beneath her bed.

“Come in”, she shouted and Fergus stepped in.

“My dear little sister”, he said tenderly and pulled her into a tight embrace, leaning his chin on her head. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find you and say goodbye”. His beard tickled her scalp, but soon he shifted his posture and kissed her forehead which, despite a quick wash, still tasted of salt. “Will you please, please take care of my family for me while I’m away?”.

Elissa hugged him back despite his hard, uninviting breastplate.

“I promise if  _you_ promise to come back home”. Elissa felt tears burn behind her eyes, and she shuddered before she gathered herself. “How am I supposed to sneak away from mother when she only has me to concentrate on?”

Fergus laughed at that, a rumbling sound, and Oren and Oriana entered the room. Elissa withdrew from his embrace, feeling as if she was the one who intruded. Oriana’s lip quivered and her eyes were red from the silent tears that softly fell onto the floor. Her tears reminded Elissa of drizzling rain. Fergus turned to Oriana, and tenderly kissed her tears away.

Oriana subtly shook her head and tried to straighten her back. It was as if she wanted to appear as strong and confident as the teyrna she one day was to become. Oriana knew she still had a long way to go before she was to resemble her mother-in-law. Elissa watched as Fergus whispered something in her ear. Oriana smiled through her veil of tears, and it was first then he took a step back from his wife. He grasped her still slightly slouched shoulders with his large hands, trying to support her.

“Dry your eyes, my love, and wish me well” he murmured. before he crouched down to Oren who watched him with excited eyes, not understanding the severity of battles.

“Is there really going to be a war, Papa? Will you bring me back a  _sward_?”, Oren asked him while playing with a scrap of metal on his father’ armour.

Fergus scoffed, trying to lighten Elissa’s and Oriana’s moods. “My favorite son”, Fergus tousled the little boy's hair fondly, “I promise that you will get to see a sword up close real soon”.

"I am your _only_ son", Oren protested.

Fergus' answer was interrupted by shouts and horses' neighs out from the courtyard.

“Well, my dearest family”, he said and looked at them all, squaring his shoulders and let his soft gaze be replaced by a sternness unfamiliar to them. “That’s my cue to leave. Will you see me off, sister?”, he asked Elissa.

She cleared her throat, but instead of answering, she found that she could only shake her head, incapable of speaking. Elissa ignored the questioning look Oriana send her. Fergus inclined his head in a nod and hugged her once more.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do”, he snickered and Oriana smiled faintly at his remark – they both knew very well the traits Elissa inhabited. Elissa snorted, but Fergus saw a wan smile tug the corner of her lips. Content, he turned around and lifted his son up into his strong arms, and grasped his wife’s hand again with a tenderness Elissa envied.

“Off I go! So many darkspawn to behead, so little time”, he called from the hallway, and Elissa stared after them as they walked away. When they disappeared, Elissa went to her window where she saw her parents giving their emotional farewells to their only son. Waving to his family, he mounted his horse and his kaddis painted mabari, Hohaku, tensed as he prepared to follow his master, the commander Highever’s army. Elissa held her breath as her brother glanced up to her window, nodding a farewell.

As Fergus began to ride away with the majority of the Couslands’ troops at his heels, Elissa threw herself on her bed. She opened one of the hidden wine bottles and lit her pipe stuffed with elfroot and tobacco. Her arm hurt – she guessed a bruise was going to show - where Gilmore had hit her earlier with his blunted sword. The elfroot soon fogged her mind; she was now numb to both the pain in her arm and Fergus’ departure.

After what felt like hours, Eleanor entered her room holding a food tray. Eleanor narrowed her eyes when she saw what her daughter was doing, but chose not to comment it - Fergus had just left them for a battle that would go down in the history books. Elissa pushed herself up into a sitting position when the door creaked and her face grew crimson. She was just as ashamed every time her mother witnessed her somewhat decadent behavior.

“Why didn’t you knock?”, Elissa wondered while smothering a cough, staring at the tray, “And why not send a servant?”

“You need to eat, my dear child, and I rather see that it is done myself”, Eleanor said as softly she could and sat down on the edge of her daughter’s bed. “I know we have our differences”, she continued and put down the tray with cheese and bread beside Elissa, “but you know I – we, love you”. She sighed and Elissa couldn’t bear to look at her. “I just wished you took better care of yourself. I... I want you to be happy. Even though I may not approve of everything you do...” Eleanor let the unsaid words hover in the air instead of finishing her sentence. By now even Elissa’s ears were covered in the strong reddish hue – Eleanor wondered if it was because of what she said or the alcohol.

After a moment, Elissa found the courage to meet her mother’s eyes that held the same color as her own. Bryce always said to them that the color reminded him of a mysterious, enchanted forest.

“I love you too”, she said with a careful smile. The words sounded strange, and Elissa felt that they did not come as easily as they did when she was a child. “And I am sorry I always seem to disappoint you, mother. I have been thinking...” Elissa hesitated and moved closer to Eleanor. “Maybe I should get married. Or at least join the army, and try to achieve knighthood". A beat. "It would have been easier if you just had allowed me to be a squire when I was younger, you know.”

“I know, dear, I know. Well, as long as you don’t join the Grey Wardens, I’ll be satisfied”, Eleanor snickered and stroked her daughter’s cheek. The Grey Wardens were only honored in the time of a Blight, otherwise, they were forgotten. The Order consisted of many great fighters, but also of criminals and bastards with nowhere else to go, which did nothing to improve its reputation. “I overheard Duncan speaking to Bryce about the Blight, and how they need more recruits. I do not wish to see both my children fight those vile creatures”.

Elissa reached for her mother’s hand and lowered it from her cheek, but didn’t let it go. She hummed before musing aloud, more to herself than Eleanor;

“I wonder if he is to recruit Gilmore”.

Eleanor squeezed her daughter’s hand before she rose up. “We will see what they say in the morning, before Duncan is returning to Ostagar. It would be a shame to lose Ser Gilmore to the Order, when he serves us so well.” A beat, and Eleanor’s voice bristled. “I hope your brother will come home soon, safe and sound...” Her eyes welled with tears and Elissa could only imagine how it felt for a mother to see her only son pick up his arms in a war against something as unnatural as darkspawn.

Then Eleanor clicked her tongue and shook her head. With those two motions, she had gathered herself. “Eat now, my dear Ellie. Tomorrow Oriana and I have decided to see if we can get you a new dress”.

“Thank you, Mother, for the cheese and bread”. Elissa dared to wink to Eleanor and knew she was in no position to decline the next day’s event. "It was exactly what I needed". 

Through the open window, they heard a horn alert them of an approaching company.

“That must be Howe”, Eleanor said as she went to the open door, leaning a drumming hand against the doorjamb. “When you’ve eaten, I hope you will come down and join us. I’ve told Nan that we would like to have dinner served in three hours”.

Elissa nodded and Eleanor left her, after giving her daughter a last glance. Both of them felt that their chests were a bit lighter after their conversation. Elissa put the full tray next to her. Humming on a melody she'd never earlier heard, she lit her pipe anew.

 

*

 

“Wake up!” Iona shouted to her while shaking her ferociously by her shoulders. Elissa's of sleep blurred vision could still distinguish that her lover's face was blanched and contorted by fear. “Elissa, by the Creators, wake up!”, she repeated, her voice more desperate.

Elissa jolted up as Truce’s barks intensified – she was wide-awake, with only the quilt covering her naked body. Confused by the noise of chaos, she felt a thousand questions dart through her mind. People were screaming, metal was clashing and Truce barked at the door with raised fur and bared teeth.

“What’s happening?” Elissa whispered with a parched mouth as she tried to take it all in, and Iona violently shook her head. She did not know either. The terrifying sounds of foreboding footsteps and the screams of both men and women closed in to them. The footfalls stopped outside Elissa’s door and Iona stared at her lover with panic glistening in her eyes.

With a loud bang and the shattering sound of the wooden lock breaking, the door was thrown open. Truce whimpered and Iona, the beautiful, innocent Iona, slowly looked down to her chest. With a surprised, blanched face, her trembling, delicate fingers sought the fletching that belonged to the arrow that had pierced her chest.

The men who’d opened the door vanished as soon as they had come, not even entering the chamber, and Elissa ran to Iona as she swayed, knees suddenly weak. Elissa managed to catch her before hitting the stone floor. The elven woman clutched Elissa’s wrist with a blood-smeared hand. A stray tear drifted down Iona’s pale cheek, and hoarsely she sighed her daughter’s name.

“Amethyne...”.

After a minute, her rough, ragged breathing stopped and a heavy sigh left her parted lips.

"Iona?", Elissa whispered, hardly audible. When Iona's darkened eyes blindly stared back at her, Elissa raised her quivering palm and, hesitantly at first, slapped her cheek. No response. Another slap. Cold sweat erupted on Elissa's skin and shivering, she put her lips against her's. They were still warm, but she received no response. Slowly, Elissa pulled back, gently holding her palm against Iona's cheek.

The only time Iona had not returned her kiss was their very first one -- a memory that this moment felt so very distant. Elissa dragged a hand through her hair, her eyes mindlessly searching for help in the room's countless decorations. There was nothing there that could resurrect the dead. Her eyes returned to Iona. Blood began to pool on the carpet. 

Iona did not wake up, as no emotions can awake a heart no longer beating. Truce whined and bumped his head on Iona, knowing something was amiss. Elissa curled Iona’s heavy head in her lap, and carefully, she caressed her blond hair, unaware of that she was smearing blood onto her with every stroke.

The surrounding chaos was muted – in this room, there was only apathy. It was first when an alien cry ravaged through the night that forced Elissa to return to the present. Oriana’s anguished wail tore the veil Elissa had raised around her. In a matter of seconds, Elissa realized it was the scream of Death and she quickly rose up and pulled on the first tunic and pants she could find.

The bright fabric stuck to her blood-stained skin and was immediately discolored. Elissa did either not notice nor care, and hurriedly, she grabbed her sword, the one with the Cousland emblem engraved. With her heart in her throat, she sneaked through the littered hallways to her mother’s chamber. Fearing what she would find, she opened the door ajar. The sight she saw relieved her – Eleanor was prepared to assault any intruder; armed with a sword, still dressed in her nightgown.

“Sweet child!” Eleanor cried as she recognized her youngest whose hands and face were covered in blood. “Are you alright?”

“Mother, Iona is...” The words choked in Elissa’s throat and her body shivered. “They killed her, mother. They _killed_ her. Why? What is happening?”

Elissa’s held the hilt of her sword so hard her shaking knuckles turned white, and Eleanor gave her a quick hug, knowing Elissa never had experienced the horrors of battle. Eleanor felt sorry for the elf. She had known about Iona’s and Elissa’s affair – Landra had told her of her suspicions, and Eleanor had greatly disapproved of their liaison - until now. Her heart gnarled in a most painful way when she saw her daughter’s pure sorrow. Iona had never done anything wrong, not  _really_ , and Elissa...

“Come, dear, you may cry for her later”. Eleanor stroked a strand of hair from her daughter’s bloodied face. “We must go get Oren and Oriana”.

Elissa nodded, reminiscing her sister-in-law's scream, and they began moving to her daughter-in-law’s bedchamber. They moved silently and did their best to avoid stepping on the broken items that covered the floor. Eleanor hushed her daughter as she carefully opened Oriana’s door. The room was dark, except for a wavering oil lamp on the wall. In the lone flame’s light, they saw the scene that told them they were too late.

Oren lay on the floor in a large pool of blood, almost decapitated. The whites of his bared spine stared at them through the black blood. Eleanor closed her eyes as a pain never felt before flashed through her entire being. She almost thought she could hear her heart shriek as it was torn asunder.

The sound of Elissa’s retching forced her to reopen them, and her eyes swept to the bed where Oriana laid naked, abused and bruised. From her bare chest steamy blood still poured, as if she in death wanted to drown the world in vengeance for the crimes committed to her and her son. _Sh _e told me just a week ago that she was with child.__  

Behind her, Eleanor heard Elissa hyperventilate -- her breaths were quick and shallow. Without thinking, Eleanor spun around and lifted her hand, slapping Elissa’s cheek, trying to whip some kind of rationality back into her. _I can’t lose her as well_.

With big eyes and a hand on her red cheek, Elissa stared bewildered into her mother's eyes.

“Calm yourself, dear! We must find your father and get out!”. They could mourn the dead later, and Eleanor felt that the mind of the pragmatic battle maiden she once was returned to her in the hour of desperation.

Eleanor gasped as an armed man soundlessly entered the room behind Elissa’s back - but before he had time to alarm his colleagues, Eleanor got in control of her body and moved with swift motions towards him. She lunged with her sword and stabbed him in his lung, silencing any attempt for him to cry for aid. Elissa watched as the man fell down on his knees and looked at her mother in horror.

“He isn’t one of ours”, Elissa exclaimed in a breath. Eleanor didn’t say anything as she cut the man’s throat,  leaving him to bleed to death. One look at the man’s armor told her that he served Arl Howe. Eleanor saw in her periphery that Elissa noticed that too.

“Mother, Howe... Howe is our friend”.

“Come”, Eleanor demanded with a voice cold as ice, and she took a firm grip around Elissa’s arm, dragging her until Elissa remembered how to function. Together they ran over the porcelain and glass that was shattered on the floor, heading for the secret exit. They did not feel the physical pain as the shards cut into the skin of their bare feet.

As they opened the door to the shed made for secret getaways, they found that Ser Gilmore, Duncan and... a wounded Teyrn already were there. Eleanor gasped as she saw her husband on the floor, bleeding. Elissa looked at Gilmore who closed the door behind them, prepared to slay any foe that would try to open it. She didn’t recognize her friend, whose features were tense and eyes fiery, his spirit prepared to pass through the Veil for their cause.

Bryce stammered and reached out his arms to Eleanor, a movement that drained him of energy.

“Oren... Oriana?”, he wondered, breathlessly suspecting the answer.

Eleanor slowly shook her head, and crying she embraced her dying husband. “They are gone, my love”.

“You all must leave,  _now_ ”, Gilmore interjected with a shaky voice that did not match his confident look, as screams outside the shed split the air that smelled of smoke and metal. “I... I will stay here to make sure no one follows you”.

“He is right”, Duncan nodded in Gilmore’s direction. The Commander's posture was straight and his head held high. Only a twitching sinew on his neck revealed his feelings. “Bryce, my friend, you must get up”.

Bryce moaned as he shifted his position to a half-sitting one where his back leaned against the rough wooden wall. “I can’t.” His pained eyes drifted over them. “I can't. Leave me”.

Eleanor glanced at her husband and then at Duncan. A calm determination slowly got set in her eyes. “If he stays, I stay", she said, steel in her voice. "Duncan, save our daughter”.

“No!” Elissa howled as if she was a wolf abandoned by its pack. For a split second, she froze, pondering the possibility if this was all a nightmare, but the taste of bile and retch was too real, just as the pain of loss that ran through her like wildfire. “I won’t leave you!”

Bryce grasped a handful of fabric in Eleanor's nightgown, pleading in a way teyrns seldom did. "Please", he said, choking on his own words. "Go with them, my love". 

Eleanor smiled tenderly while she caressed her husband's cheek. The salt tears began to dry on her cheeks, and Bryce closed his eyes as the sensation of her soft palms smothered the pain. "I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time, Bryce, but I once swore to the Maker to never abandon you in your hour of need. I will stay and fulfill our vows. I will not leave".

They heard the sounds of rattling footsteps and clanking armor approach, and men outside their hideout shouted.

“Duncan, save our daughter. Do whatever you must. I will  _not_ see her die from Howe's treachery. He has already taken enough from us”. Eleanor’s voice was firm and she stared into Elissa’s eyes, daring her to object. Bryce couldn’t help but think how beautiful and alike the two most important women in his life were, before his thoughts got interrupted by a coughing act.

Duncan sighed weary and glued his gaze with Elissa’s. “I’m sorry Elissa, but I have no other choice. I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription”.

Elissa stared at him. “What?”. A beat before she in ire pushed him, her palms against his armor. “How  _could_ you? I can not leave them!” Her voice went shriller with every word. “Mother! You will _die_!”.

“I am no Orlesian wallflower, dear. I have a sword and I will use it. Gilmore will take care of me. If I die, I will die by your father’s side, and there is nothing you can do about it.” _Oh, I hope you will find a love like ours one day, sweet daughter. My Elissa, do not care what other people think. I wish I could undo so many things..._

Men started to bang on the locked door and Truce growled.

Bryce licked his parched lips, and his body tensed in pain with every hoarse word he uttered; “Pup. Look at me. We are Couslands, and we do what must be done. You shall always follow your duty, and your duty is now towards the Grey Wardens. You cannot deny the Right of Conscription.”

Elissa was defeated, and with hollow eyes, she looked at her parents’ who clung onto each other. She understood that she gazed into the eyes of living dead.

“Now go!” Bryce cried harshly, his words dripping with pure desperation. He had accepted his fate, and could only hope Elissa accepted hers. Duncan bowed to them, a last farewell. He, a Grey Warden, held fealty to no country nor man but the Order; still, he would always be loyal to them.

The Commander of the Grey could only do one last thing for his childhood friend; save his daughter. Elissa’s breaths were shallow and too fast; her fingers tingled and lips numbed. Gilmore grabbed her upper arms gently and stroked them while giving her a quick kiss on her cheek. His eyes were solemn. In another life, he would have been a valorous knight. 

"Live, my friend", he whispered.

There was no time nor words worthy of a verbal goodbye. Knowing that Elissa never would abandon them without a fight, Gilmore could only hope that she one day could understand and forgive him. In a swift motion - before she had time to react, he hit her in the temple with the pommel of his sword. Colors and pixels blinded her vision as pain lanced through her. Failing to grab Gilmore for support, she fell unconscious into Duncan’s arms.

Without another word or gesture, carrying Elissa as gently he could, Duncan kicked the secret door open and disappeared into the shadows, with a growling Truce following him.

In the distance, he heard the door to the shed burst open, and the screams of the honorable men left behind pierced through the dense dark.

Duncan could do nothing than try to ignore their dying cries, hoping to fulfill his last vow to them.

He had to save her. No matter the cost.


	3. Chapter 3

Pain. Pain filled her entire existence.

Elissa gasped as her eyes shot open. She couldn’t decide what hurt the most - her throbbing head or the rest of her pulsating body. A lump in her throat caught her breath, and she attempted to clear it. Fire ravaged in her burning esophagus as she threw up bile to the ground next to her. 

 _Grass,_ she thought for herself and let out her palm to brush the tickling, green blades _. Where am I?_

With a choking breath, Elissa closed her heavy-lidded eyes. She remembered, and her body shivered in angst.

Highever in flames, little Oren’s unseeing gaze. Her parents on the floor, Father bleeding. Gilmore giving her a last peck on the cheek.

Truce whimpered next to her, nudged her. She could not pay him any attention. Not now.

“I see you’re finally awake”. A deep voice cut through the sounds of her heartbeats. “How are you feeling?”.

Elissa defied her pain and pulled herself up into a sitting position, groaning as every movement sent bolts of lightning down her spine. A rising sun shone through the canopy, forcing her to scrunch her eyes. Duncan sat on a lichen-crusted stone a few meters away, watching her with somber eyes. He had tried to wash away the blood from her as soon they were at a safe distance from Highever, but her tunic was still stained with the memory.

Her voice was on the edge of breaking as she spat out her resentful answer;

“Howe killed my family, and here I am, alive. With you". She stressed the last word. "I-I guess that pretty much sums how I feel”.

She didn’t need to say more than that. Duncan understood. He was well-acquainted with agony and death. They were his dearest friends, since they flowed in his blood. 

“You have been knocked out for quite a while, Elissa”. He was pragmatic as many seasoned warriors, and changed the subject without expressing his own emotions. “Are you able to stand? We are just a few days' walk from Ostagar, and I doubt neither I nor the sickly donkey can carry you any longer; you’re heavier than you look. You’ll get a chance to rest when we’ll arrive at The Spoiled Princess, I promise.”

He sighed and fetched the skinny donkey he bought from a peasant family they passed earlier.

“We got no food either, but we are soon to meet up with a Senior Warden and, I hope, another recruit at the inn.” The Commander of the Grey stretched his dark-skinned neck from side to side and steered his steps towards Elissa to help her get up. He did his best to hide his grimace as he helped her – the woman’s breath smelled of a mix of vomit and acetone, the latter a clear sign that she’s been without food for too long.

It was difficult for her to walk. She was weak and every muscle in her body hurt, no matter how small the movement. Truce and Duncan supported her on each side until they found a brook where Duncan took an opportunity to fill his water bottle. The bottle was marked with the words 'Warden Duncan. Joining juice'. He smiled wanly at the bizarre memory of his own Joining. It felt like a lifetime ago -- back when his mind was clear and still, relatively at least, unsullied. He drank a few sips of the chilly water before he brought it to her cracked lips.

She refused to open her mouth and let instead the fluid pour down her chin and down along her neck, so it soaked the upper part of her tunic. He shook his head.

“You must drink. I swore to your parents that I was to take care of you. I will not let you kill yourself. You are to be a Grey Warden - and I expect you to be worthy of that title. Take this opportunity to make them proud”.  Duncan gripped Elissa’s shoulders and shook her lightly. “Do you understand?”

Elissa moaned helplessly. Duncan continued, relentless;

“You’ll help me fight the Blight, and I’ll help you revenge your family when the time comes. This I vow to you”. He put a closed fist to his heart, a gesture of promise, saluting the pledge. She sighed a little and slumped down on the ground, dizzy as her blood sugar level dropped.

“Alright, give me the bottle, then.” Elissa was too tired to argue. But to be a true Grey Warden? After the battle, she decided she would need to talk some sense into him. 

 

*

 

“Commander!”, a merry, disembodied voice shouted.

“Alistair?” Duncan tried to determine wherefrom the voice came. “Is it you?”

“Yes, and I have a certain Solona...  _Amell, was it_?” A short pause. “... with me!”

Elissa lifted her head and gazed towards the tree line surrounding the glade where Duncan decided they were to rest. A well-built man with honey-colored hair accompanied by a fair, slender woman stepped out from the forest. Duncan walked to greet them and murmured something Elissa failed to hear. The man, who seemingly was called Alistair, peeked at her as Duncan spoke. Some moments later, the woman – _Solona_? – walked to Elissa and sat down beside her in the tall, yellow grass. The mabari war dog next to Elissa studied the incoming woman’s every move with caution.

“My name's Solona”, she introduced herself as she casually played with a long blade of grass, trying to establish eye contact with the other woman. Solona relished the sensation the piece of vegetation granted her fingertips – she could almost not remember a time outside the Circle of Magi. When Solona understood that Elissa avoided her with no intention to engage in a conversation, she gave up and concentrated on opening her pack and dug after an apple. Duncan had asked if she or Alistair had anything for them to eat – according to him they hadn’t eaten much for several days, and the woman beside her looked indeed very haggard and worn. Her clothes were filthy and she could see some dried, crackled dirt on her neck, just beneath her ear.

”We are not far from The Spoiled Princess. When Duncan and you weren’t there to meet us, Alistair decided to go see if we could find you”. Solona gave the scruffy woman the fruit. Elissa felt the bruised apple’s smooth skin and let it brush against her lips, before mumbling her thanks. Absentminded, she fiddled with the apple – she felt too sick to immediately ingest it, and she noticed that Solona had different kinds of herbs and potions in her open pouch. It piqued her interest.

Solona saw where the other woman’s eyes were directed and smiled crookedly. “Before you ask - yes, I’m a mage, but you don’t need to fear me... much”. She withstood the urge to roll her eyes when Elissa’s only response was to shrug her shoulders and bite her dry lip, still looking at the pack. After a while, Elissa turned her gaze to the mage, allowing eye contact for the first time. Solona shivered. The woman’s eyes were deprived of emotions, almost as if she was made tranquil. 

Solona had almost all her life feared to share the faith of a Tranquil -- it was first now, after passing her Harrowing, she no longer needed to fear it. Yet she did. Old habits were, after all, hard to break. 

Solona soon got to know that Elissa was not entirely without demeanor; “If you do not mind me asking... eh. You do not happen to possess any dried elfroot, do you?”

Solona raised her eyebrows at the question. There was nothing about the woman that implied she was a healer or even remotely interested in medicine, but then again, elfroot was one of the most common herbs used in simple salves, and one didn’t need to be very educated in herbology to know that.

“Uhm”, she cleared her throat, “I actually think I do”. She looked into her pack and managed to find a small bag containing dried leaves from the requested plant. She gave it to the woman who nodded, seemingly content with the quality of it. The fact made Solona slightly puff her chest out, happy that someone gave her credit for the herbs she had prepared on her own. Elissa immediately began to carve holes into the apple with a stick she fetched from the ground. When she was done, she put the herbs on top of the fruit.

“A mage you say. Prove it by giving me some fire?” Elissa put the apple in front of Solona who first knitted her eyebrows in confusion, but let a small flame shine out from her index finger. Elissa let the dried plant parts take fire and put her mouth against one of the holes in the apple’s side. She inhaled the smoke and held it in before exhaling with a relieved sigh.

Well, that was indeed a way of using the plant, Solona thought, amused by the strange person beside her. She could tell that the woman relaxed a little - her shoulders didn't seem as square anymore, and after yet another inhale, the woman fell down on her back, staring at the clouds in the blue sky. Duncan and Alistair joined them.

“You were supposed to eat the apple”, Duncan chastised as he shook his head at the sight Elissa displayed, his tone a bit harsher than he first intended.

“Mmh, and I will, later”. The woman gave the older man a courtly smile. She then turned her head, first facing Alistair before letting her gaze slide to Solona.

“Pardon me; I seem to have forgotten my manners.” She sat up and covered her mouth with her hand as she coughed. “The hound here goes by the name Truce”, the woman scratched the mabari behind his ear as she recovered from the coughing act, “and I am Elissa Cousland, daughter to the Teyrn of Highever, and now a bloody Grey Warden recruit”.

 

*

 

Solona was glad when they – finally! – arrived at their destination, Ostagar. She hadn’t left Kinloch Hold once since she was brought there as a child. The traveling and all impressions the outside world provided made her exhausted, to say the least. And her companions were... well, she didn’t really know yet. Alistair was pleasant and funny, even, but he had told her that he once belonged to the Chantry as a templar recruit. Solona shivered at the thought. The only templar she didn’t despise was Cullen... Oh, Cullen. She couldn’t help but wonder if she ever was to meet him again, but if it was the prize she had to pay for getting the opportunity to leave the Circle Tower, it would have to suffice.  _Forget him._

Duncan was all right. He wasn’t very chatty, but she figured it was because the traveling had made him fatigued. Every time she looked at him, he seemed distressed. Alistair always kept close to the older man, and it was clear that Alistair looked up to him.

And Elissa... Solona did not know where she had her. Elissa was quiet and said no more than needed. They had shared both bedrooms and tents during their journey, but Elissa still kept to herself. She drank more than customary for a lady of her rank whenever she had the opportunity, and Solona’s elfroot stock had been emptied within days. When Solona was out of the evidently highly coveted plant, Elissa had picked some blood lotus which made Duncan furious, and Elissa was apparently clever enough to throw them away - but not without a disapproving frown on her face.

As the party entered the ruins of Ostagar, Duncan showed the new recruits to their tents. Solona was mighty surprised when Elissa, after they had unpacked their few belongings, asked if they were to go looking for new armor and weaponry together. She gladly accepted the invitation, and Truce followed them around not leaving his mistress’ side, even though he showed great interest in the kennel where other mabari war hounds resided.

Solona could not help but dream of a mabari for herself. Elissa’s and Truce’s bond seemed unbreakable, and it was hard not to envy it. The kennel master had earlier that day told Solona that she, after the Joining, could get one of the hounds if she wanted. Since then, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. The idea that she too could have a dog made her stomach flutter with excitement.

Solona chose a hooded robe with a golden griffon embroidered on its chest, but decided to keep her staff. She was used to it; its weight and the way it felt in her hand comforted her, and she would not like to trade it away. Elissa acquired a surprisingly light armour, consisting of more leather than metal. Solona guessed it was meant for rogues, not swordsmen, but didn’t question her choice. The fellow recruit also obtained two different-sized daggers before she asked the smith to strengthen the sword she had been traveling with.

“Should you not get a shield?”, Solona asked Elissa who almost snorted at the question.

“No,” was her response, “it’s too heavy and cumbersome”.

Later that evening the Warden recruits had gathered around a fire, eating a bland stew together. Except for Solona and Elissa, there were two others who were to join the Order. One of them was a -- according to Solona -- handsome man called Daveth, and the second a heavy built knight named Jory who apparently recognized Elissa from Highever. 

Duncan approached them, followed by a man donned in gilded armor of the highest quality Solona ever had seen – which maybe didn’t say much, as she had been locked up in the Circle Tower.

“Lady Cousland”, the dazzling man standing next to Duncan said. “What a pleasure to see you here”.

 

*

 

Elissa couldn’t help but smile when she heard King Cailan’s voice. She quickly got up to her feet and bowed to him, just as elegantly as was expected from her. “Your Majesty”, she greeted him and he scoffed with lips curved into a wan smile.

“The Warden-Commander told me you probably wished to speak to me. It would be a pleasure if you were to walk with me, Your Ladyship. A Grey Warden recruit? Oh, Ellie, you never cease to astonish me”.

Elissa put down her bowl with stew and took the arm Cailan proffered. “I firmly doubt that Your Majesty will believe what I have to say”.

Cailan arched a questioning brow, but said nothing until they were far enough from eavesdropping ears.

“Maker. How… How in all of Thedas am I to tell you this, Cailan?”, Elissa wondered, first now allowing her voice to brittle. She put her hand against her stomach, desperate to remove the pain that harbored there. To speak of what happened – _had it really happened?_ – made it even worse, not at all what people always said. ‘Speak of it, and your burden will ease’. No, that was truly gibberish.

“Arl Howe killed my family”, she exhaled without the finesse Cailan was used to hear her use. “All but Fergus… and Truce… is gone”. Her voice cracked, and Cailan stood silent, pondering what she just had said, glancing at the mabari that still sat by the fire watching them with a drooping posture. He knew Bryce quite well from countless of Landmeetings, and the man had always spoken wise and just. “If it weren’t for Duncan, I would have been on the other side of the Veil with them”, Elissa continued, her face paled. 

Cailan cleared his throat and grasped Elissa’s shoulder, seeking his childhood friend’s pained gaze. “Howe is a man who should have been hanged together with his father. One cannot trust the son to a traitor – darkness runs in the veins of such men”. Cailan spoke with a voice he had practiced on since he was young, the one he used when he spoke as the King of Ferelden, not Cailan. “Your family has always served the Crown well, Ellie. I will make sure he pays for his crimes, as soon as we have won this battle. On this I swear, as a friend to another, and as your King”. He narrowed his blond brows. “I fear that Fergus is still out with a scouting party. If I only knew what had happened…” A beat. “He is not expected to return until four, maybe five days”.

“It is maybe as well. My brother will be broken when he hears of this”. Elissa squared her shoulders, trying to compose herself. Now Cailan recognized her – the proud tilt of her chin. But there was something new in her countenance; wildfire burned within her forest eyes with hate seldom seen. Most nobles would have been successful bards or assassins, since their lives and reputation depended on their looks – even if Ferelden still didn’t reach the standards of Orlais. The wildfire in her, however, would have brought her to her knees. 

Cailan rubbed his stubbly chin, and raked his long blond hair with his hand. He felt a sting of guilt shiver through him when he thought of the neighboring country that had made Ferelden suffer, and of what suffering he was to cause Anora. But what he was going to do, Cailan thought, was more significant than the past and certainly bigger than Anora. A new future awaited them all, bright as the sun. They all had to adjust.    

“I will do everything I can to help you and your brother - the new, rightful Teyrn of Highever”, Cailan vowed. He needed all the alliances he could get, and the honorable House Cousland – second only to kings, was the most important ally. To support them was a clever decision, rather than to support the less popular Howe.

He studied Elissa, who now seemed to observe the ruins around them. What was it Anora once had called her? A… shield licker? Cailan had to force himself not to smile – it would not have been appropriate at this time, that much he knew. The rumors that surrounded Elissa told him of a woman that didn’t resemble the one he knew, yet he didn’t doubt the whispers. Cailan of all would know – there were many sides of him he hid from most, as well.   

 “Your Majesty!”, a male voice called. “We need your attendance”.

Cailan rolled his eyes. He was tired of preparing for battle, tired of planning for battle and most of all tired of speaking about battle. He wanted to act.

“It seems as if I never am free from my duties”, Cailan sighed. “We will have time to speak later, Your Ladyship”.

With quick steps and a straight back, he sauntered back to his tent. Elissa watched his back as he disappeared behind the tent flap.

As she fell asleep that night she felt hope, thinking, that the Couslands’ will get their justice.

 

*

 

Elissa seemed more content since she came back from her talk with King Cailan two days earlier. Now the four Grey Warden recruits – Solona, Elissa, Daveth, and Jory, had returned to Ostagar after a night spent in the Korcari Wilds, where they had to fight darkspawn and other vile creatures, only to fill vials with darkspawn ichor. Solona frowned at the vial she held in her hand. Neither of them had been fully prepared for what being a Warden meant, and neither of them had seen darkspawn before. It was unbelievable that they were to dedicate their lives to fight against monsters with leathery skin and unearthly screams. All of them had at some point gagged or been struck by panic as the realization set in, and all of them were equally as glad over their silent understanding of never telling that to anyone. Both Elissa and Daveth had been conscripted without any real saying, but Solona got the impression that Daveth saw this as his second chance.

During their first quest, Solona came to realize that she and Elissa worked well together, now when Elissa finally began to acknowledge Solona’s existence - beyond her being an elfroot dealer, that is. Solona almost came to enjoy the time they spent together in the almost haunted forest, and Elissa appeared genuinely interested when Solona told her of the life inside the Circle of Magi.

She spoke of Irving, Cullen, Jowan (but deliberately chose not to mention him being a maleficar – it was way too early for _that_ ), Lily and the Harrowing. Solona noticed that Elissa most ably deflected the majority of the questions Solona asked her about her own childhood, family and the life as a noble, but chose not to pressure her.  _She will open up, in due time_ , Solona thought as she and the rest of her group unloaded their horses. Daveth and Jory had willingly helped her learn how to ride, and with Elissa cheerfully rooting for her, she got the hang of it pretty fast even though she couldn't say it was very pleasurable yet.

Solona jumped a little and her horse trampled worriedly when two voices began shouting. She recognized one of them; the one that belonged to King Cailan.

 

*

 

Elissa saw how startled Solona became when two upset voices suddenly yelled at each other. She looked up from her pack with furrowed brows and paid her attention to King Cailan’s tent.

“Loghain, I  _do_ respect you, but now it is time for  _you_ to respect  _me_ and  _my_ decisions!”.

Elissa threw her pack on the ground and hurried towards Cailan’s tent. The guard, who recognized her, let her peek in with a finger pressed to his lips. She had to be silent. Elissa nodded to him and held her breath when she watched the scene in front of her; Duncan sat quietly on a stool in one of the tent’s corners, pinching the bridge on his nose, while Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir and King Cailan argued heatedly.

“I cannot fathom the fact that  _you_ , my own son-in-law, son to King Maric himself, suggest we ally with Orlais!”

“You know as well as I, that the Grey Wardens are politically neutral, and how much we need the Orlesian forces to help us defeat this bloody Blight, which affects not only Ferelden, but all of Thedas!”

Loghain growled and waved a fist in front of Cailan’s face, before he grunted and rushed out from the tent, knocking Elissa with his shoulder without caring or noticing who she was. Duncan raised his bowed head and spotted Elissa, and his frustrated features softened.

“I’m glad to see that you’re back. I trust everything went as planned?”. Elissa nodded, and he slid his gaze to Cailan before returning to her. “We will start the Joining soon. Go and find Alistair so that we can begin; I’ll come as fast as I can, I just need to speak with the King first”.

Elissa nodded again -- she knew she had witnessed something she was not allowed to, but before she turned to walk away Cailan interrupted her.

“Lady Elissa”, he said with a calm voice. Elissa relaxed at that; he was not angry with her. “It might not be my place... But I thought you would like to know that Ser Cauthrien is here.”

 

*

 

Solona caught up with Elissa as she left the King’s tent. She seemed distracted.

“Excuse me,", she said to Solona, "but there is something I must do. Go get Alistair so that we can be done with the Joining”. Elissa gave her a waving gesture as if she were a servant and Solona frowned as she watched Elissa hurry away through the large camp. Solona admitted to herself that she felt a bit hurt from the nonchalant gesture and bossy attitude, but yet she did as Elissa had demanded.

She found that Alistair was talking with Jory and Daveth, still standing by the horses, all three of them curiously casting glances towards the tent.

“So”, Solona began with a slightly trembling voice and a nervous smile when she approached them, stealing their attention. “I was sent to find you, Alistair, so we can go through with the Joining”.

 

*

 

Ser Daryn Cauthrien narrowed her eyes when Loghain stormed past her. The Hero of River Dane was not more than a shell of the formidable man he once was, a transformation that began to show its face when his wife, Teyrna Celia, passed away. Greed and darkness had begun to nag him, and now he was like this; robbed from his former glory. Daryn shook her head. It was this man that had saved her from a life in poverty and hardship, and now it was her turn to try and return the favor. He needed her – she was one of few he trusted nowadays, much due to his increasing paranoia. She hoped his condition and mind wouldn’t get any worse.

“Ser Cauthrien!”, she heard the voice fitting one of a younger woman shout. She looked around, trying to determine wherefrom the voice came. Her eyes landed on a woman who walked straight towards her, passing through the knot of Ash Warriors and the king's own troops. When she got closer, the corners of Cauthrien’s mouth curled upwards.

“Lady Cousland!” She started to walk to Elissa, meeting her halfway. “What in all of Thedas are you doing here?”

“It is a long story, Daryn, and I do not have time to tell it right now. I… I am to be a Grey Warden in a few minutes”, she said as she let her hand brush Daryn’s. “I just wanted... needed, to see you. Someone I care about”.

Daryn didn’t know what to say – she felt a thousand questions stir around in her mind. Elissa, a Grey Warden? And she wanted –  _needed_ , to see her? They hadn’t spoken in six years, and even though they sometimes had happened to see each other when Elissa visited Denerim, they respectfully avoided one another.

“I hope you will find me later then, Your Ladyship, so you can tell me your story”, Daryn said a bit perplexed, and half-bowed.

So the beautiful girl had now become a beautiful woman. Daryn had heard the fables that were told about her, and while she never tried to contact Elissa after she went back to Highever that day so many years ago, Daryn still cared for her. Had her former lover - once so worried about her reputation, really transformed into an openly... promiscuous and immoral person, such as the rumors stated?

“I would like that very much, Ser Cauthrien”. Elissa studied Daryn, trying to get reacquainted with the face she once had sought comfort in. Her black hair was now accompanied by a few, discreet greyish strands, despite her age, and the red scar on her cheekbone had faded into a silvery nuance, which made her look even more intriguing.

“Wish me luck, Daryn”. Elissa reluctantly spun around, not waiting for an answer, and hurried back to the other recruits. Elissa thanked the Maker for not feeling as uneasy as she did before.

 

*

 

_Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you._

_From this moment forth, Solona, you are a Grey Warden._

_Elissa, step forward. You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good. From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden._

_It is finished. Welcome._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should mention that I kind of happened to make Lily a mage. Too lazy to edit though. It was first when I watched the mage origin on yt I noticed my mistake. (I always play a basic Cousland so I honestly had no clue 😂)


	4. Chapter 4

Solona sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair next to Elissa’s bedroll when Alistair entered their tent. He thought the young mage was pretty, with long blond hair, rosy lips, and kind brown eyes - eyes that now were filled with concern for the slightly erratic woman who still seemed to be unconscious since yesterday’s joining. Alistair shook his head. He couldn’t grasp Elissa. One moment, she spoke and acted like a true aristocrat and then, her behavior rather suited one of a... vulgar plebeian.

“She’s still sleeping, huh?”, he asked Solona, with arms crossed over his chest.

Solona nodded, giving him a quick look before returning her attention to Elissa. “Yes. I wonder when she’ll wake up". She bit her lip. "She still vomits, so I can’t risk leaving her alone”.

Alistair noticed that she tried not to sound worried, and saw how she was wringing her slim hands. Eager to ease her troubled expression, he inquired; “How are you feeling, then? I remember my Joining. My head hurt for like a week! But then again, I am pretty weak”. He let out a muted chuckle and Solona smiled faintly to him as she answered.

“My head pounds but otherwise I’m alright”. Her eyes flickered when she continued, “But, I have to admit seeing the archdemon was... different. It felt so... _real_ , you know. I wasn’t prepared for that”. 

“Yeah”. Alistair looked down at his own booted feet and his tone shifted. “I know. It’s the taint, the darkspawn ichor that’s merged with your blood. The archdemon communicates with the darkspawn horde, and the Grey Wardens, eh - we... can feel it just like they do. So it is... real, and that is also how we know this truly is a blight”.  

He threw a glance at Elissa, clearing his throat. He was glad Solona did not pay him much attention, since he guessed that the tip of his ears had reddened. He was never far from blushing, a trait he disapproved greatly of. “When she wakes up, or there is anything you need, you can just call for me. I’ll be right outside”.

Alistair scratched his neck as he spun around, exiting the tent. After a second of hesitation, he decided to let the tent flap down so they could have some privacy.

A couple of hours later, when Solona finally called for him, he was thoroughly polishing his armor. His palms were covered in wax, and he was startled when her voice rang though the brisk air, “I think she’s waking up!”

Alistair carefully let down the chest plate and hurried back into the tent, trying to wipe away the fat on his gambeson. His hands stopped moving against the fabric as he lay eyes on the scene in front of him. What he saw made his stomach turn, and he scolded himself for being so sensitive.

Elissa tried to sit up, her quilt barely covering her bare chest, and she groaned in pain as she successfully repositioned herself. Solona swiftly grabbed the quilt, making sure it did not fall down. 

“Well, wasn’t that about time, Warden!”, Alistair chirped with a wink, before awkwardly averting his gaze. Elissa just glared at him through watery eyes as Solona kindly offered her some pennyroyal leaves. Alistair suspected from the slight frown that graced Solona's face that the woman’s breath wasn’t too fragrant. “Ehrm. I will go tell Duncan that you have woken up.”

Elissa was unable to answer as she gagged and threw up once more in the bucket Solona quickly handed to her. Alistair felt how he himself was about to gag at the sight. “Uh, and there is some porridge out there if you’re hungry”.

Alistair hurried to get away as Elissa answered with another hurl.

 

*

 

Duncan called Alistair, Elissa, and Solona to the war council, where they together with Teyrn Loghain and King Cailan would oversee the battle’s strategy. The tent was still damp from the misty night, the air humid. Solona hoped that the setting sun soon would heat the canvas, dragging out the moist from it.

Cailan, clad in his gilded armor, was the first to speak, “General, I do think we should await the Orlesian forces to join us.” His voice was more solemn, more steadfast, than the last time he and his father-in-law talked -- or rather, argued.

“I must repeat my protest to your foul notion; we don’t need the Orlesians to defend ourselves,” Loghain said disdainfully. His glistening upper lip twitched as he spoke. 

Cailan clenched his stubbled jaw before he replying, “It is not a ‘foul notion’, Loghain. Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past, and you should do your best in remembering which one of us who is king.” 

Loghain shook his head, rubbing his forehead with an ungloved hand. “How fortunate Maric is to not see his son ready to lend Ferelden to those who enslaved us for a century and later killed him - or have you forgotten about that, my... King?”, he almost hissed, his eyes glued to Cailan's. “We also don’t have time to wait for those reinforcements. We need to beat the darkspawn now, before it gets any worse. I suggest we fight them tonight". Something in Loghain's dark eyes lit. "Imagine people chanting your name, Cailan, and yours alone, after saving Ferelden and Thedas from the fifth Blight. It will be glorious”.

Cailan stood quiet for a moment before he answered, thinking as he drummed his thumb on the war table. If it was one thing in the world he wished for more than an heir or to have a pleasant-looking woman in his bed, it was glory. “Then our current forces have to suffice”. He turned to Duncan, with expectation gleaming in his eyes. “Warden-Commander, are your men ready for battle?”

“They are, Your Majesty”. Duncan did not share the young king's enthusiasm. He was of the opinion that they should wait for reinforces, but on the other hand, he was grateful for the aid the Order got. The King's army did have a fair chance against the blighted one. 

Cailan nodded and looked at the other Grey Wardens, as if it was first now he acknowledged their presence. His gaze stopped and rested on Elissa, and Solona thought she could see that his features turned slightly concerned as he spoke to her.

“Lady Cousland”, he began as he stopped drumming and straightened his back. He tried to sound indifferent, but a hint of emotion lay underneath his every word. “I fear we shall enter this battle tonight, and your brother and his men have still not returned”.

Solona looked with an inquiring gaze at Elissa who distressingly clenched her jaw. Duncan put a warning hand on Elissa’s shoulder, and while Solona could see how she strained herself from jerking away from it, Elissa instead forced herself to take a deep breath before she answered the king.

“I understand, Your Majesty. The Blight is our foremost priority. And you need not to call me by those titles any longer, for I am not more than a Grey Warden”.

Cailan gave her the palest of smiles. “Being a Grey Warden is no small task, and you should be most honored to join their ranks. And, if I remember correctly from your and Anora’s sparrings, you will become a most exceptional Warden”.

Elissa managed to answer the king with a slight bow, but Solona noticed that she had closed her fists so that her nails had dug into her skin and made her bleed. Did Alistair see it as well? No, Solona concluded, as he was busy leering at the map.

It was most odd, she thought, to have befriended a friend to the king himself. Her mind drifted from the unnerving talk of war, and she let herself wonder what more the world outside the Tower would grant her.

The King of Ferelden returned his attention to the large map that lay unfurled on the table, and his determined words dragged Solona out of her reverie. “The Grey Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines, and then?”

Loghain stepped so he stood next beside him, studying the war table pieces. "You should not be in the front lines, Your Majesty", Loghain cautioned, making a gesture towards a gilded piece. His worry was completely dismissed by Cailan. Loghain gave him a long look before letting his eyes return to the map. After a few seconds of thinking, he pointed on it.

“You will alert those in the Tower of Ishal to light the beacon, signaling my men to charge at the darkspawn. I have a few men stationed there, but it is vital that the beacon is lit. You should send your best men to light it”.

Cailan sought Duncan's eyes, and the Commander nodded approvingly. Duncan suppressed the urge to bite the inside of his cheek, and hoped that the king would remember what they had talked about. Cailan cleared his throat before he let his gaze wander to Alistair's.

“Then I shall send Alistair and the new Grey Wardens to make sure it is done.”

 

*

 

“She likes you!” Solona chuckled as Frost licked Alistair’s face. The kennel master had given her the war hound after the council, and Frost seemed to enjoy her newfound freedom.

“Indeed she does – but I must say that it is most hurting that you say it with such surprise! What is there  _not_ to like about me?”, Alistair smiled as he gently pushed the dog away from his face.  When Frost returned to Solona’s side she decided to lay down, panting with her tongue out.

“We should start to prepare for tonight”, Wynne added and watched Alistair as he brushed away dirt from his trousers. He had finished polishing his armor earlier, but didn’t want to wear it more than he had to – he had told them that being in it during the warm afternoon was like being cooked.

Wynne, a Senior Enchanter at the Ferelden's Circle Tower, had sought up Solona since she learned that the younger mage was at Ostagar. To Solona, she was like the mother she never had the chance to know, and Wynne cared for her like she was her own daughter. The Senior Enchanter volunteered to go to Ostagar when the word of King Cailan's call to arms reached Kinloch. She was well aware of the power both demons and darkspawn could hold and knew that her advanced healing skills could be useful in the coming battle. If this battle failed, she feared that Ferelden would succumb to the Blight -- a fate she wished upon no man.

“I’m already finished”, Solona exclaimed with a slight tremble to her voice, as she anxiously wrung her hands. “But I have to admit that I am a bit nervous. When Elissa, Daveth, Jory and I...” She paused, and shook her head. “I can’t believe they died", she continued weakly. "Daveth was really good to me, and Jory had his wife and daughter.”

Alistair averted his gaze while Wynne comforted her by caressing her shoulder. He hoped Solona wouldn't say any more details about their unfortunate deaths at the Joining - not in front of the Senior Enchanter, at least. Most of the things that surrounded the Grey Warden Order were classified and one only learned about the secrets if one was in it - and Alistair hadn't even had the chance yet to learn half of all there was to know. 

“It is what it is”, Solona sighed and Alistair was pleased she left it at that. “I was going to say that when we were in the Korcari Wilds it went fine, but then there were only smaller groups of darkspawn we fought against. They were not led by any alpha. Now...” she couldn’t finish her sentence, and her handwringing intensified. “They scare me”, she confessed with a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she stared into the trampled, muddy ground at her feet.

“I understand”, Alistair smiled reassuringly, trying to show her that he had been there as well. “I have to admit that I’m a bit nervous too”. Alistair scratched the back of his hand. Even though he was a Senior Warden, he had joined the Order only months ago and never been in the heat of a grand battle. “We just have to light the beacon at first, and then we’ll see what happens”.

They sat in silence as the sun descended and when the flames were their main light source, Alistair decided to put on his armor. Solona rose up from her seat and decided to help him with all the straps. When they were done, Wynne put a kettle with tea on the fire.

“It always soothes me”, she explained with a small smile. 

Alistair fidgeted with a pebble, weighing it in either hand. “Solona…”, he began, eager to pass the time. Fear began to burn in his stomach, and he wished for a distraction. “What do you know of Elissa?” They hadn’t seen her or her dog since the meeting with King Cailan.

“Not much”, Solona admitted with a raised brow. “She won’t talk much about herself.” Wynne poured Solona a cup of steamy herbal tea, and Solona sipped on it and hissed as the water burned the tip of her tongue. “But I trust her. She saved me more than once when we were out in the Wilds.” She lowered the cup. “The first time, a hurlock was charging at me while I was busy trying to take out an awful shriek...”.

Solona shuddered at the memory of the creature’s wailing as her spells finally ended its… could she even call it life? 

“... and I honestly thought I was going to die, but then she showed up from nowhere and pierced him – eh, it, through the chest.” She took a moment to think. “She  _loves_ to smoke elfroot and drink, but that’s it.  You already know all that”. Solona grinned and gazed into Alistair’s eyes. “Why? Do you know anything else?” Solona tried to not sound curious and her face grew red as she failed. Wynne always used to tell her that it was a bad habit to nose around, but now the older mage sat quiet, listening. Solona reached out a hand to Wynne, glad she was there. Wynne clasped it and gave it a tender squeeze. How come Wynne's frail hands were so steady? 

“No, not really, only that Duncan said he has known her since she was a kid”. Alistair sighed and scratched Frost behind her ear. “It would’ve been nice if she was here talking with us before it all begins. I wonder where she is.”

 

*

 

Daryn stretched out on the bed like a cat, purring contently. “You certainly have learned some new things, my lady”.

Elissa smirked. This was the first time since Highever she allowed herself to live in the present. If she so much as brushed the past, she felt the urge to retch, and if she thought about the upcoming battle... well, then she felt the urge to retch as well. So Elissa had decided that living in the present was just fine. Her stomach was already turned outside in from the Joining, and it deserved some rest.

“If you excuse my correction; I go by the honorable title Warden now, dear lieutenant”. Elissa's voice was smoky, and she curled back up into Daryn’s arms. Daryn chuckled and leaned so she could kiss Elissa’s clavicle. That was when she realized how much she loved the new way Elissa's skin smelled, a rough mixture of oiled leather and salt sweat instead of the expensive perfumes that once embedded her. Elissa’s muscles were loosened up which surprised Daryn. In the other’s arms, they both had found the ability to relax in the time before the battle – a time which often was tense as metal and where once mind was alert and sharp, just like the edge of a sword.

 “Oh, is it so? Well then. You certainly have learned some new things, my  _warden_ ”. Daryn gave her a crooked smile as they both began to don their armor. Elissa’s leather armor was easier to get into, so when Daryn Cauthrien still wasn’t finished with her mail, Elissa helped her.

“You know”, Elissa said, “This reminds me of before”. A snapping sound as another buckle was set in place. “Every time you were to go away, I helped you into this... beastly thing”.

“And often it ended with us removing it”, Daryn smirked and Elissa laughed softly. For the first time since Highever, she finally had found a safe place. In Daryn's arms.

How come she always was saved by her?

“It did, didn’t it?”

When the last clasp was fastened, they sat down on the rumpled cot. Elissa brushed Daryn’s hair gently – a ritual that soothed them both. After a while spent in silence, Daryn mildly grabbed Elissa’s hand and lowered it.

“My dove”, Daryn began as she brought Elissa’s hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles. “How do you feel about tonight?”.

Truce, already covered in kaddis paint and with a riveted collar around his neck, looked at them with a tilted head. Although he had been delighted to meet Daryn again, he knew it was not the same as before. He could almost smell the upcoming veil of death that soon was to lay thick over Ostagar.

“I… don’t know”. Elissa moved closer to Daryn, forcing herself to take calm breaths and not let her mind enter the same state of panic as the night in Highever. She quickly pulled away her hand from Daryn’s grip and covered her mouth as gagging sounds escaped her throat. _To think about Highever and the battle at the same time was indeed a bad idea._

Daryn didn’t judge the younger woman, instead, she calmingly stroked Elissa’s back that had turned rigid. She remembered her own first battle and that had been against predictable men, not darkspawn.

“Take deep breaths, my dove”, Daryn said with a modulated voice and Elissa soon regained the control over her body, but her hands still trembled.

“What I can say is that I’m glad you’re here”, Elissa whispered with a dry mouth, “and I feel safe to know that when the beacon is burning, you will come to aid us.” Elissa leaned her clammy forehead against Daryn’s cold pauldron. Cauthrien kissed her hair, and listened. “Those darkspawn are... horrifying. Yes, I admit that’s how I feel”. Elissa relished the cooling metal against her skin. This whole situation was absurd. How was she to go to war? It was not like she could win against the creatures by throwing a drinking contest. Out in the Wilds she had been lucky, and not encountered any larger horde of them.

This fight was to be something entirely different.

“I will be there for you, Elissa. I promise. But you should know”, Daryn stroked Elissa’s hair, “that I have seen you fight, and you are better than many”.

Elissa pulled away from Daryn and looked down on the ground.

“You have seen me _spar_ ”. Elissa sighed heavily and felt tears burn behind her eyes, and let her often proud shoulders droop. “I... I should tell you why I’m here. Oh, Daryn”. Elissa swallowed. "My whole family, mother and --”

Elissa gasped as the sound from a horn interrupted her. With narrowed brows, Daryn tossed Elissa a leather band, and both tied their hair in dense silence.

The battle was about to begin.

 

*

 

Neither of the three – Alistair, Elissa, and Solona, had known true battle. As they fought their way to the tower, killing as many darkspawn they could, they took in the action-filled surroundings in short glimpses rather than with calculating overseeing gazes. The noises; wailings, cries, and metal clashing against metal with deafening sounds reverberated against their eardrums and the smells; vomit, smoke, intestines, feces, and blood etched into their nostrils.

While the trio quickly found a tactic that made their advancing towards the beacon smooth, Truce and Frost were magnificent as they together worked to take down genlocks and hurlocks.

With the help from a few of Loghain’s soldiers, they soon got up to the tower’s peak. Their muscles ached as never before and their minds were foggy except from one thing that was crystal clear – and it was that they had to light the beacon. Elissa and Alistair fought back against back. Her brow was covered in pearls of sweat, and she cursed herself for having a dagger in one hand and the Cousland sword in the other, wishing she instead had chosen a shield as Alistair had done. When Elissa had an opportunity, she picked a slightly dented shield off the ground and internally thanked the fallen soldier for the gift. With the shield strapped to her forearm, she, Solona and Alistair together with Loghain’s men began to attack the large ogre that protected the beacon.

Solona, with a sweaty grip around her staff, had frozen the creature before Alistair could pierce its large skull with his blade. The beast howled as its life ended. 

“Fire!” Elissa yelled to Solona in a high pitch that made her throat burn. “Lit the beacon, for Maker’s sake!”.

Solona nodded and focused on the beacon, and while chanting a silent spell, she sent a flame bolt into its core. Their skin almost burned from the beacon’s explosion, and a soldier waved his arms in panic as his hair took fire. His wide-eyed comrade quickly suffocated the flames, sweat beads covering his forehead.

“We did it!” Alistair shouted with a relieved grin and Solona burst out laughing, holding a hand against her midriff. They had succeeded. “We did it!”

The sound of a swishing arrow, quickly followed by another, silenced them. With a bewildered look on their faces, they saw Elissa fall down on her knees. She opened her mouth as her both hands sought the fledglings that were attached to her chest, but nothing more than a gurgling rumble left her throat. 

 _Iona,_ Elissa thought as a calm acceptance settled into her, _it should have been me back then. Now it is._  

Seeing, but not truly grasping what was happening, Alistair and Solona stared at her whose chest was pierced by two arrows. When the realization slowly settled in, neither of them had any time to react. A sword punctured Alistair’s shrieking cuirass before it was embedded by his pulsating flesh.

Solona thought she was to see her life flash before her eyes as she let her fingers meet the sharp arrowhead that stuck out right over her navel. Instead, the most beautiful of colors danced before her eyelids as dark blood poured into her bowled hands. She got an epiphany: one did not see life flash by more than once - and that was when one lived it.

Soon, the colors stopped dancing, but it didn’t go black. She didn’t enter the Fade. It went to nothing.

 

*

 

The King of Ferelden had fallen and Duncan was wounded. The blood gushed from his stomach, and he knelt at the king he wasn’t allowed to swear fealty to, but in his heart, had. _Just as I once did with Maric_. He tilted his head upwards, letting his blurred gaze seek the Tower of Ishal. The beacon’s flames licked the dark night sky, but no one came. The Commander of the Grey knew what had happened.

Loghain, the Hero of River Dane, had forsaken them.

With a gentle motion, Duncan closed Cailan’s unseeing eyes and accepted that he, too, was about to perish from this world.

_I’m sorry, Bryce, for not fulfilling my promise to you and your kin. I’m sorry, Alistair for not being there supporting you._

_I’m sorry Ferelden. The Blight --_

He stared unwaveringly into the darkspawn’s black eyes when it killed him.

 

*

 

Cauthrien saw the beacon’s flames rise and her heart skipped a beat. She exhaled and could for the first time this evening breathe again.  _Maker. She really did it._ Daryn turned to Loghain, dutifully awaiting his command. She couldn’t wait to slay the ugly bastards invading their country.

Loghain stared at the dancing flames for what felt for an eternity before he opened his mouth.

“Ser Cauthrien” he finally said. Daryn reacted to the steel that harbored in his hoarse voice. “Sound the retreat”.

Daryn’s heart leaped to her throat, and she struggled to find the words. Had she misinterpreted the situation? “But...", she stuttered, aghast of the whole situation. "What about the King? Should we not –“

With the swift motions of a cat, Loghain turned to her and gripped her wrist. She shivered as she saw that his eyes were blacker than the sky itself and colder than the coldest of winters.  _It has happened. He has gone full-blown mad._

“Do as I command. And Cauthrien...” he paused and his grip around her wrist tightened. He snarled, as if the sheer thought of Elissa and the rest of the order was repulsive. “Your darling Cousland is dead. I made sure of that. Their family was a bunch of treasonous whores anyway. Sound the retreat, or I will kill you here and now in front of these commoners – those who look up to you”.

Daryn tried to pull away from his grip. "Let me go”, she hissed. She continued to stare at her commander before her gaze dropped and she knew that she had lost. "I… I will sound the retreat”.

Loghain nodded contently and loosened his hand. "I knew I could trust you", he said coolly. 

When she spun around facing the troops, she had to bite her lip until the taste of iron filled her whole mouth, all the way up to her nose, so she wouldn’t weep. She could do that later, away from everyone.

“Pull out!”, she shouted to her men, spitting blood with her saliva. “All of you. Let’s move”.

_My King. My lover. My country. I can’t believe I failed you._


	5. Chapter 5

She woke up to the sound of Alistair’s and Solona’s voices and to the comfy smell of a stew.

Her companions seemed to have connected, and Elissa felt a sting of envy as she pried her heavy eyelids open. It wasn’t on purpose she isolated herself from them; she was just... too _tired_  to care about making friends. When she came to the fortress of Ostagar, she had Truce, Duncan, King Cailan and Ser Cauthrien. They were supposed to help her get her vengeance against Howe. It wasn’t like she planned to stay with the Grey Wardens – once the fifth Blight was over and dealt with...

Truce barked in her ear when he noticed that his mistress was awake, and Elissa groaned as her ear started to ring. “It’s alright, boy”, she whispered and Truce licked her lips and wiggled his tail happily. Elissa turned away her face and pushed him away, drying her face with the corner of a quilt that covered her. She saw the other two wardens eat by a crackling fire.

Solona must have reacted to Truce’s bark, because she looked at Elissa with a small smile that did not match the woe in her eyes.

“Good morning, Elissa. How come you always sleep longer than the rest of us?”. It was obvious that Solona tried to keep their spirits up. 

Elissa was perplexed. _What has happened? The last thing I remember is the beacon’s explosion._

“How else would I endure being with you two?”. Elissa tried to chuckle but the pain in her chest quickly silenced her. Alistair gave her something that resembled a crooked smile. “Where are we?”, she wondered as she looked around. They were accommodated in a basic hut, old but well-taken of. Alistair was about to answer when a door was opened. In came both a gust of wind and the form of an older woman, one Elissa never before had seen.

The creaking door closed, and the crone gave her a quick look. “I told you the lass was doing fine, didn’t I?”, she sputtered. Alistair hummed an affirmative sound and Solona turned away her gaze, bringing a spoon to her mouth. They had apparently already had enough of her.

“Have they told you what happened?” the woman continued, her voice no longer sharp, just blunt. When Elissa shook her head, the woman explained what Solona and Alistair could not. “Your king is dead, your Warden-Commander is dead and the rest of your comrades are dead. You five – yes, the mabaris’ too – would also be dead if I had not found you”.

Elissa looked at the old woman with widened eyes and their savior only looked back at her, carefully studying her reaction. Elissa felt her fingers tingle, before numbing off. It was too much to fathom. Cailan and Duncan were dead, together with the rest of the Grey Wardens? Her stomach burned with anguish _. Is this how it feels to die?_   She closed her eyes, smothering a sob that was close to escaping.

“Loghain and his men?”, she inquired after taking a few moments to gather herself. _Daryn, please be alive._

Now the woman's lips curled into a smirk. Alistair and Solona had paused eating, frozen, as they had to endure hearing the truth once again.

“Oh, lass. You are so naive. They retreated when the beacon was lit”.

_Yes. This is how dying feels like._

 

*

 

Solona put the groceries and herbs Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, was kind enough to provide them in a pack that also was gifted to them by her. Solona couldn’t believe she was real. She had read about the witch when she was in the Tower, and Daveth had told her legends about Flemeth the day before the Joining when they were out in Korcari Wilds. And now that woman had saved their lives. Why? 

She felt on the puckered hole she got next to her navel, letting her fingers carefully inspect the new scar, trying to reacquaint herself with her body's new look. It was a terrifying thought, knowing she should have been dead. Even though she could not understand Flemeth's intentions, she was eternally grateful.

The Witch of the Wilds didn’t look very frightening, but Solona knew that one couldn’t trust looks. The old woman was powerful, and even more since she lived as an apostate with no one to control her. Solona’s time in the Circle had taught her that magic was something that  _had_  to be controlled, and Jowan was an example that forced her to support the idea.

Solona felt her heart ache as she came to think of Wynne.  _I hope she is alright._  She tried to shake away her worry and forced herself to think about Jowan again. She would probably never understand why someone was to use something as foul as blood magic. She shivered at the thought.  _Poor Lily_. Lily and Jowan had been lovers, but he betrayed her when they were about to escape from Kinloch Hold. Solona was dumb enough to try to help them. It ended with that Jowan successfully escaped whereas Lily got punished and Solona... Well.

She didn’t have to think about that now. She was free from the Circle of Magi, even though she was afraid that being a Grey Warden was another type of cage. The darkspawn ichor flowing in her veins killed her slowly. What did Alistair say - fifteen years, give or take, until they heard the Calling?

They were the only wardens left in Ferelden, a country on the verge of a Civil War due to the queen’s inability to bear a child. Now, the king was dead with no heir to take his place. And they thought the situation couldn’t get any worse... Solona rubbed her face with her hands. What a mess.

Flemeth had earlier given Alistair some old, torn parchments. He shone up when he saw what they were; he told Solona and Elissa that it was ancient treaties that made it possible for Grey Wardens to demand elves, dwarves, and mages to help them during a Blight. He also told them that Cailan’s uncle, Arl Eamon of Redcliffe, should have an army at disposal since he wasn’t at the battle of Ostagar. When Solona asked him if he thought Arl Eamon really would want to help them, he said that he _knew_ Arl Eamon would – Alistair had worked for him as a stable boy almost half of his life. Elissa, on the other hand, had been quiet and absent-minded the whole day since Flemeth told her about Loghain’s betrayal, except for one time when she muttered that they all needed to repair their broken armor. Solona stared at the hole in Alistair's armor -- Elissa was, indeed, correct. 

“We are ready to leave now, Flemeth”, Solona said to the witch as she tied her pack together. “I do not know how we can thank you for everything”.

“Oh, not so fast, lassie”. Flemeth said when the party exited the hut. “I know exactly how you can repay me". The old woman smiled slyly. "I want you to let my dear daughter Morrigan join you on your quest. I suspect that you need all the help you can get, and Morrigan... let us just say that the lass needs to see more of the world than birds, Chasinds, and moss”.

A young, raven-haired woman with yellow eyes walked towards them with swaying hips and a disapproving frown on her face. She wore rags for clothes and used her staff as a cane. A pack was casually thrown over her shoulder.

“Well, well", she said slowly, her gaze observant, "what have we here?". Morrigan's tone dripped with disdain, and she stopped next to her mother, studying the three Grey Wardens with wary eyes and a quirked brow. After a few moments, she continued with a slightly defeated stature. "You should know this is not my wish”. Her eyes were slited and she rested a hand on her hip, the other grasping her staff. "This was all my dear mother's idea. If you do not want me to accompany you, just say so".

Alistair looked startled, her eyes darting between Morrigan and Flemeth. “You want a _mage_ to come with us?”. He blushed when he turned his eyes to Solona. “I mean – uh, an  _apostate_.”

”If you do not want help from illegal mages, I should have left you dead in that tower”, Flemeth responded with a sneer that curled her wizened lips.

”Point taken”. Alistair’s face grew redder, and Solona rolled her eyes and looked at Elissa, who actually seemed a bit... amused?

“So...” Elissa asked Morrigan with what could be interpreted as a twinkle in her eyes. “Do you know what elfroot looks like?”

Solona choked a chuckle when the daughter to Flemeth’s features turned insulted – she looked most offended, and Solona knew from that moment that this Morrigan would come with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so I made it 15 years instead of 30. Because come on, if one is 20 when going through the Joining, the Calling comes when one is around 50 years old and that doesn't sound TOO horrible in this monster-filled, medieval-y universe, though some sources I've read states that the Calling may come between 10-30 years later.  
> The only annoying thing is that it messes up the canon timeline with the books and stuff (hiya Duncan), but I think we can manage anyway, if we decide not to think about it too much. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

“Are we there soon?”

Alistair panted and wiped away the sweat beads from his brow. The group had finally left the Korcari Wilds after spending a couple of rough days trying to get out of there, which was hard due to all creatures that lurked around in the dark forest. It was as if every time the two warriors cleaned their blades, the metal sang out to neighboring monsters, begging them to attack again. 

Solona and Alistair had volunteered to take several of the night shifts, but Elissa had been persistent, insisting on staying awake the whole nights. Her face had adopted a sickly pallor, and dark circles hardened her weary eyes. It was first the last night when Morrigan did what Solona was too afraid to do Elissa had finally curled up in her bedroll. Solona smothered a smile, reminiscing Morrigan threatening Elissa with putting her under a sleeping enchantment.

Yet, Solona thought while finally allowing a wan smile to shape her lips, Elissa was in a much better shape than Alistair. He blamed it on his damaged armor, saying that it wasn’t fitting correctly due to some broken straps and that the metal in his cuirass – the one around the entrance hole from the sword, chafed his back. Morrigan had only rolled her eyes at him when he said that, while muttering something unintelligible. Solona, however, could understand him. Her own warden robe had seen its best days, despite being patched together at Flemeth's hut. She was glad not having to wear metal armor, since she would probably have suffered from the same problem as him.

Solona let her eyes rest on Morrgina's back. She had tried to chat with the newcomer during the last days, but it was clear that Morrigan rather was alone when she could. The night before, Morrigan even moved her bedroll away from the others, not fearing the creatures of the night. Solona doubted they ever would have gotten out of the Wilds if it wasn’t for Morrigan's guidance - they would probably have gone around in circles, forever trapped. In that regard, she appreciated that Morrigan had joined up with them, even though it clearly was not by her own choice.

Morrigan snorted at Alistair’s question. “I can just say that we are closer to the village than the last time you asked.”

After an additional hour of walking in silence, only occasionally broken by a cough or short comment, they could see damaged city walls appear in the distance. “Behold the _magnificent_ village called Lothering”, Morrigan sardonically gestured at the ruins. “We just need to cross that one, and then we’re there”. She pointed at a bridge that led into the village.

“Lothering?” Solona exclaimed, not knowing Ostagar had been so close to the village. “Oh, I think I have relatives here. I believe I even visited them once”.

“You have relatives here?”, Alistair wondered with a lifted brow. “ _And_ you have visited them?”

“Yes, and yes”, Solona answered him with a lopsided smile. “It was of course before I was sent away to the Circle. I was six years’ old when the templars took me.” Solona silenced, and her voice was somber as she continued. “I doubt they remember me, it was such a long time ago. I surely don't remember much.”

Morrigan sighed and tucked a strand of hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear. “And here you go wonder why some actually wish to live as apostates and not in the prison tower you once called home.”

“I think you should go and warn them about the Blight”, Elissa chimed in before Solona had the time to respond Morrigan. It was probably for the best, Solona surmised. “I can help you find them if you would like. We can not help everyone, but we should take the time to do that. Family... is important”. Elissa’s voice grew thicker with emotion as she spoke.

“Family is family”, Morrigan said flatly. “Nothing more, nothing less. If you want to waste time looking for someone who maybe does not remember her --”

“Yes, I would actually like that a lot”. Elissa’s voice went cold and Morrigan narrowed her eyes, but decided to just shrug her shoulders and let them have it their way. She knew that it was she who was with them, and not the other way around. Even if Morrigan didn’t wish to be with here with them, she felt a small sensation of excitement to travel around the country. And, of course, the fact that she wished to make Flemeth proud – an impossible task, Morrigan knew, and the realization clouded her mind.

“I just spoke my mind, that’s all”.

Elissa only cast their new companion a short glance. “And you are allowed to, just as I am.”

Morrigan furrowed her brows at the statement and went silent. It was not the kind of response she had expected, and she admitted to herself that she was pleasantly surprised.

Solona grasped Elissa’s upper arm. “Thank you”, she said meekly.

Elissa gave her a pale smile and patted her hand a bit awkwardly before she pulled away from Solona’s grasp.

Alistair gulped. “Hey, you...”, he began as he pulled out his sword from its scabbard. The metal shrieked. “I sense—“

The two hounds growled and tensed when they sighted a group of darkspawn that headed their way.

Solona sought Morrigan's eyes. “Watch out for the darkspawn, Morrigan, so you don’t get tainted!” she warned and Morrigan answered her with a nod, taking a few steps back. With swift motions that made Solona envious, Morrigan directed her staff at the creatures and her lips moved as she whispered silent spells. Her lips then pressed together, and soon spikes of ice left the staff, heading towards the darkspawns. Solona moved to Morrigan’s side and did the opposite – after taking the staff from her back she began to send flames that licked the hurlocks’ bodies. They howled when their leathery skin began to melt.

Solona smiled at Morrigan when Alistair together with Frost and Truce took down the last darkspawn. Morrigan didn’t mirror the smile, but at least she gave her another nod. While Morrigan was not much for so-called camaraderie, she acknowledged that they had worked well together.

Alistair and Elissa didn’t bother to clean their weapons before they tucked them into their sheaths. They hoped to stay clear from another attack, at least for a while. 

 

*

 

The stone bridge Morrigan said led them to Lothering was occupied of a raggedy group of highwaymen. Elissa crinkled her nose as the stench from the almost dried out river beneath them filled her nostrils, and as the smell mixed with that from unwashed men, it made her ill.

“Wake up gentlemen”, one of the bandits said to his companions with a cheery, big smile as they approached the group. “More travelers to attend to. I’d guess the pretty one is the leader”, he continued and smirked to Elissa who eye-rolled, with fingers brushing the hilt of her blade, ready to assault if needed to. She tried to reminisce what Daryn had taught her about strategy, and she calculated the moves needed to slay the men if it had to come to that.

A heavier bandit scratched his head as he laid his eyes on the group. His eyes popped when he saw their weathered armor and their weapons -- especially the staffs, Elissa noted.  “Err, they don’t look much like them others”. He swallowed and his eyes flickered. “Maybe we should let these ones pass”.

The first one chuckled; “Nonsense!”, and he gestured to his companion to stay quiet. It was, apparently, a show and he was the self-appointed director. “Greetings, travelers. Ten silvers and you’re free to move on”.

Alistair spoke quietly, not wanting the words to get caught in the wind. “I suppose they are preying on those fleeing the darkspawn. That is _wrong_. We should do something”.

For the first time since they had met, Morrigan found that she actually agreed with him. “They are fools to get in our way”, she stated as she inspected her nails. “I say we teach them a lesson”. And for the first time since Elissa had met them both, she agreed with both of them.

“You should listen to your friend”, Elissa answered the self-confident man flatly. “We are not refugees”.

The heavy man panted and sweat shimmered on his greasy forehead. “What did I tell you?”, he muttered. “They have no wagons, and they look armed”.

Morrigan arched a brow and curled her lips, amused. “He is clever, this one”.

The leader shrugged his shoulders and leered at Solona, smirking. “Everyone’s gotta pay, Henric, refugee or not. And they can not be that good”, he said, pointedly looking at their broken armor.

Elissa didn’t hesitate - she pulled out her sword that shrieked grimly as it left its sheath. Alistair mirrored the action.

“No. We are not going to pay”. Elissa sent the man a sly smile. “And no one else shall either”.

“Well, this is going nowhere”, the leader sighed and after another swift gesture, he and his companions armed themselves. “Let’s finish this gents, so we can ransack their corpses!”

With quick movements, Alistair attacked the group of bandits slightly from the side. Elissa grinned as she showed the leader her blood smeared blade. “Darkspawn ichor”, she informed him and his eyes widened when he realized his mistake. The griffons on their chests were not raiding trophies, the blue of their armors not robbed goods. _Grey Wardens,_ he thought as he crestfallen let the woman in front of her close in. _I should have let them pass and alerted the soldiers here of their presence._

Elissa grinned as she beheaded the rueful man in front of her. Adrenaline fueled her body and soul, and she began charging their foes without thinking – abandoning any plans of strategies, with blood lust burning in her eyes.

“She’s reckless”, Morrigan muttered to Solona as they both picked up their staffs and sent spells at their enemies.

"And ruthless", Solona responded bitterly as sweat clammed her skin.

Elissa pierced the first bandit through the chest and she gasped as a memory of the dying Iona flashed before her eyelids. Clasping her tongue beneath her teeth so she felt the taste of warm copper fill her mouth, she swung around and brought up the dagger from her hip, thrusting it into one of the highwaymen’s eye. He wailed as he sunk down on the ground, desperately trying to stop the massive bleeding with his bare hands. Elissa left him and joined Alistair as he punctured one of the bandit’s earlier proud chest with his sword and Elissa cut the last one’s abdomen open, making intestines and blood pour over her feet. Elissa looked into his terrified eyes when his body danced into death without flinching. _This is how I will kill Howe,_ she decided. _I shall drag the life out from his body myself._

Alistair tramped to Elissa as the highwayman died and she fell down on her knees next to the criminal. “What in the Maker’s name were you thinking?” Alistair shouted at her blood-stained face with such a force that spit spluttered on her face. “You cannot just abandon logical thinking and go out on a torturing spree! We are supposed to fight  _together_!”

Solona shook her head which silenced Alistair, taken by the scene that had played out. Her hands trembled as the adrenaline left her body and left her with the consequences of what they’d done, and she saw that Alistair had the same problem. The row of dead men was a most piteous sight. She understood why Alistair was upset. It was the first time they had killed something other than game or monsters, and Solona felt her stomach cramp.

“He is right, Elissa”, she tried to speak in a calm tone that did not come naturally to her, “that _was_ stupid. You stood in our -” she looked at Morrigan who seemed indifferent to what just happened, “- way. If we had miscalculated one step you’d take, we would be talking to either a bonfire or an iceberg”. Solona brought out a handkerchief and wiped away the blood on Elissa’s face.

“And?” Elissa muttered beneath her breath when Solona was done, waving a hand to them so they wouldn’t answer. ”I will go see if they have hidden some money here.” Elissa's voice was hoarse. “We need every coin we can find”.

Alistair sank down on the ground when Elissa began searching the bandits’ bodies and chests. “It was the first men we killed”. He closed his eyes and felt as if he was about to throw up. Bile burned his throat. “It’s different from killing those...  _monsters_ ”.

Morrigan sneered at Alistair with one hand resting on her hip. She clicked with her tongue, almost pitying his naivety.

“Do you not understand? ‘Tis humans that are the worst kind of monsters”.

 

*

 

“Well, there it is. Lothering. Pretty as a painting”. Alistair winked to Solona. They had cleared away the dead bodies and rested before continuing to Lothering. Their similar reactions to what happened at the bridge had made them talk, and by speaking about the incident, they both felt like they could justify their deeds – it was, after all, in self-defense and they protected future refugees. Alistair decided to ignore the nagging guilt, refusing to think of the bandits' families. “Do you recognize it?”

Solona studied the overcrowded village’s simple buildings and dirty streets before she truthfully answered, “No, I don’t. But with all the refugees here, maybe it looks different”. The village stank and it was hard to hear what Solona said as her words drowned in the noise from chatter and cries.

“Let us go to the tavern”, Elissa suggested while she tried to remove the blood that had dried beneath her fingernails. “I will get us some nice, flea-infested beds and a pint.” She had gathered quite an amount of coins from the bandits. “Then we can seek up those relatives of yours, and see if we can find someone who can repair our armor. Maybe... we can get Morrigan here some decent clothes, too”. Elissa smiled wryly.

“No”, Morrigan said and pursed her lips. “I’m perfectly content with what I have”.

“Not perfectly content with what you  _don’t_  have?” Alistair raised his eyebrow and clucked pointedly. Her outfit left little to the imagination.

Morrigan glared at him, but Solona interrupted her as she was about to make a comeback. “That sounds like a plan, at least”.  

The group went through the village on its dusty roads, and while Elissa did not seem to notice the beggars, Solona managed to sneak a few coins to them when she or Morrigan didn’t see. Alistair gave her an encouraging smile, thinking it was the right thing to do. When they had found the tavern, Elissa went straight to the desk to talk with the innkeeper.

“We are full”, he informed before she even had opened her mouth. “All rooms are already taken”.

Elissa turned her head towards her companions and shook her head to them, signaling what the man just said.  
“If your relatives won’t let us in for the night, Solona, we have to set up a camp”. She looked back at the owner. “Then I will buy all of us some ale”.

The innkeeper grunted a response and served them their beverages. They chose an empty table and made plans for the day. Solona and Elissa would try to find Solona’s relatives, Alistair would go to find a smith who could repair their damaged armors while Morrigan was supposed to see if she could find some food and camping gear to buy.

When Elissa had finished her ale as well as Morrigan’s, who had muttered that it ‘tasted like horse piss’ and left Alistair wondering how she possibly could know what that tasted like, two soldiers barged in through the door. They scanned the room full of people, and when they laid their eyes on the party, they grinned and steered their steps straight towards them.

“Well, well.” The older one of them said. He snarled, flashing a set of yellowed teeth. “Look what we have here. I think we’ve just been blessed”.

The Grey Wardens gave each other a quick look. They recognized the crest that covered their breastplates --Loghain’s men.

“Doesn’t she fit the description?” he wondered and pointed at Elissa who tensed. When his companion nodded the man continued. “ _Traitors_. We’ve been looking for you all morning”. He spat in Elissa’s face.

Morrigan huffed in amusement as Elissa stormed up so that they stood nose-against-nose, with the yellow spit slowly flowing down her cheek.

“Stupid men”, she whispered to Solona who watched the argument unfold with wide eyes. Alistair trembled as he tried to pull out his sword. Solona knew that he didn’t want to kill more men, and she understood him. Killing darkspawn was one thing; men another, whatever else they tried to persuade themselves into thinking.  

In the corner of her eye, Solona noticed that a red-haired woman in a Chantry robe who had been sitting in a corner and watched them with great interest, stepped forward to Elissa and the soldier. Elissa had even commented on the Sister as they earlier had sat down at the table; saying something about that a sister sitting alone in a tavern was a sight made for dirty jokes.

“Gentlemen”, the Chantry sister intervened with a calm, accented voice. “Surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge”. Solona was not very urbane, but even to her, it was clear that the woman's accent was Orlesian.

“They are more than that”, Loghain’s soldier stated. “Stay out of your way, Sister. If you protect these traitors, you’ll get the same as them”.

Elissa could no longer contain her ire. She put her hands on the man’s breastplate and pushed him. He swayed, trying to regain his footing.

“If you want to fight, let’s fight”, she hissed.

Before the soldier reached his sword, Elissa had already thrust a dagger into his ear and held her other dagger against the other soldier’s throat.

“I surrender!” the soldier breathed as Elissa pushed the dagger into his skin so a small trickle of blood emerged. She felt her pulse throb in her temples, and her lip quivered as adrenaline dimmed her mind.

“Tell me why you were saying that we’re traitors?” she wondered coldly as she stared into the man’s frightened eyes.

The young man gulped, but spoke, convinced of the truthness in his words. “The Warden’s led the king to his death! And the teyrn could do nothing but save us from your trap”.

The sound of wood scraping against wood when Alistair pulled out his chair echoed in the room that had silenced. He strode to the man and fury burned in his eyes. “It was Loghain that betrayed us, not the other way around!”

The Chantry sister looked at them, and as Elissa with a flick of her wrist prepared to cut the man’s throat, she spoke, “He has surrendered! They were no match for you. Let him be!”.

It was enough to make Elissa hesitate. She looked to Alistair for his opinion. The Chantry sister’s interruption made his anger subside, and he turned away his gaze, ashamed of his outburst. 

“Maybe we should listen to her”, he mumbled, not wanting to see a man who only fulfilled his duty to the Crown die. “He… He can send a message to Loghain from us”.

Elissa slowly lowered her dagger and nodded to him before staring back into the soldier’s eyes. “Thank the Sister that you still live, before you run to your  _fearless_  commander and tell him that the Grey Wardens knows what truly happened at Ostagar”.

It took a few seconds for the man to react. Beads of sweat sparkled on his forehead.

“Th-thank you”, he stammered to the Sister before his wobbly legs made a run to the exit. As his hands grasped the knob Elissa groaned and smacked a fist in the table. The hit made the cups jingle. In a swift motion, she lifted her arm and threw her dagger. The soldier gasped, more in surprise than pain, when it dug into his back and punctured his lung. As he convulsed, she went to him, crouched and gently lifted his head. She mumbled something inaudible before she mercifully cut his throat.

The redhaired sister glared at Elissa. “What was that good for?”. Her hands were clasped in a tight grip, as if she desperately begged the Maker for forgiveness. “He had _surrendered_!”

Solona watched Elissa as she returned and leaned both her palms against the table. Her hair poured so it covered her face, making it impossible to decipher her expression. When it was clear that Elissa was going to ignore the sister, Solona decided to speak up.

“If you don’t mind me asking… who are you?”

The redhead bit her lip before she sighed and looked at Solona. Her earlier contorted face had regained its neutral visage, and while her eyes still seethed, she spoke as calmly she could muster.

“I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was...” She paused for a moment as Alistair brushed past her, returning to his seat at the table. The innkeeper scowled at them, and Solona saw that Morrigan sat with a crooked smile, watching the spectacle without uttering a word. “You said that you are Grey Wardens? You will be battling the darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do?” Solona inclined her head in a nod and Leliana continued. “I know after what happened, you’ll need all the help you can get. That’s why I’m coming along.”

Morrigan chuckled and Elissa snorted. Solona ignored them, focusing on Leliana.“Why are you so eager to come with us? Even after...”. Solona made a pointing gesture to the young boy. Dark blood still flowed from the fatal wound in his neck, disappearing down the cracks between the planks.

Leliana gave the dead soldier a quick glance, before returning to Solona. “The Maker told me to.”

Now Morrigan burst out laughing and Elissa turned towards the woman with a wry smile. “Hah", Elissa mocked. "So you say that the Maker is on our side? If so – please come with! I would love to have the Maker’s... _vessel_ , with me”.

“Knock it off, Elissa”, Solona said sternly and Leliana blushed, eyes flickering.

“I- I know that sounds absolutely insane – but it’s true! I had a dream... A vision!”

Even Alistair scoffed and looked to Morrigan. “More crazy? I thought we were all full up”. It was the second time this day the two had agreed on something. Maybe this was a day of miracles, after all.

Leliana straightened her shoulders and began telling them about her vision, looking into Solona’s kind eyes while trying shut out the others’ sarcasm. Elissa just shook her head and left the tavern, with Alistair and Morrigan following her.

“I cannot deal with this hogwash, not today”, she muttered as she nonchalantly stepped over the dead body on her way out.

Not disheartened by the others' response, Leliana continued her story. When she was done, Solona stood up and smiled kindly. “You can come with, Sister Leliana. You are right – we need all the help we can get”.

Leliana smiled back, relieved. “ _Merci_ ”, she said in her lilting voice. It was obvious that she was excited, and the foul deed forgotten. “Then I just need to get my things!”

 

*

 

Solona followed Leliana to the monastery where she gathered her belongings. After she’d taken farewell to some of her fellow sisters, they returned to the others. Solona introduced the newcomer to the group, but except for Alistair, they seemed mildly interested in her. Morrigan glared at the sister and narrowed her eyes when she turned to Solona.

“Perhaps your skull was more cracked than Mother thought”.

“Ah, let her be”, Elissa murmured to Morrigan, despite that her skeptical countenance matched that of Morrigan's. She avoided the sister’s gaze altogether, and squared her shoulders. “So,” Elissa said to Solona, “are we to go find your relatives?”

“Yes... about that,” Solona turned to Leliana with an inquiring look. “Sister, you don’t happen to know any Amell’s in the village?”.

“ _Oui_. I know a Leandra Amell”, she answered. “And her children, of course! I can show you where she lives, if you’d like?”

Elissa shot Solona an icy glare and muttered; “If you two go there, I will follow Alistair to the smith instead”.

Solona raised a questioning brow; she could tell that Elissa felt somewhat hurt that it was Leliana, and not herself, who was going to help her find them. Elissa bit her lip and turned away, patting Alistair’s shoulder. “Let’s get moving”.

 

*

 

“Flemeth...”, Elissa slurred. Morrigan raised a brow.

“What about Flemeth?”

They were back at Dane’s Refuge. Solona and Leliana had still not come back from their ‘mission’, to find her relatives. They were either dead or had been warmly greeted. Morrigan didn’t care what. The wardens she babysat drank like they were teenagers getting hold of alcohol for the first time, and Morrigan found them equally as annoying as they were entertaining.

“She’s scary,” Alistair said with half-open eyes as he was swaying on the chair.

 Morrigan smothered a smile.“She eats children, Alistair, so you have every reason to fear her”.

“Highever”, Elissa continued and toasted with Morrigan’s water-filled glass. “I come from Highever. Flemeth comes from Highever. Nan told me that, you know”

“I do not know who this Nan is”. Morrigan sighed _. Imagine that these two are supposed to save the world._ “But yes, ‘tis true. Flemeth once lived in Highever, but that is a long time ago”.

“Highever. Everyone is dead. Rendon Howe killed them”, Elissa said as she now tried to toast with her almost sleeping warden comrade. Morrigan pursed her lips, and hoped that she was not about to weep. 

“Duncan was like a... father to me”, Alistair sobbed and took another sip of his drink.

“Don’t fall on your blade in grief”, Morrigan eye-rolled. Alistair furrowed his brows and clenched his fist, for a second a bit sobered where his head leaned against the table.

“Is it wrong for me to be upset for losing someone I cared about?”. Morrigan stared at him and Alistair took another long drink before he continued. “What if your mother died? You wouldn’t be upset?”

Morrigan wore the ghost of a smile. “Before or after I stopped laughing?”

Tears welled in Alistair’s eyes and Elissa patted his back. “He was a shite. He con- con-  _concuscripted_  me and left my parents to die. He promised me revenge, and now he is dead as well”. 

 _This was something new_ , Morrigan thought as she watched them talk heart to heart in their drunken fog.

Morrigan noticed that Elissa soon turned her attention from the babbling Alistair to a young woman’s hindquarter. She gave the witch a wink before she staggered away with the black-haired maiden in sight, like a predator sneaking up on prey.  _She is a... uh._ Morrigan shook her head once more. 

Alistair dropped his head down against the table and began snoring, and Morrigan surprised herself by feeling relieved when she saw that the insane Sister and the brainwashed Circle mage stepped into the tavern. When they spotted Morrigan they waved to her and made their way through the crowd. Solona gave Alistair an oblique glance and Morrigan realized that Leliana even giggled in that  _heinous_  Orlesian accent.

“We are now able to set up a decent camp, and Alistair and Elissa have seen to that your armor is repaired”, Morrigan reported as she stood up, preparing to leave the decadent place.

“Good”, Solona smiled as she tried to wake Alistair by gently shaking him. “Leandra welcomed us with open arms. She said that we are welcome to spend the night there”.

“I rather sleep by myself”, Morrigan admitted with a frown. She couldn’t wait to sleep out in the forest on her own, far away from these  _children_. “And I believe Elissa has found ... accommodations, of her own”.

“She has?” Solona asked before she let out an ‘oh’, and her innocent eyes widened when she understood what kind of accommodation Morrigan meant.

Alistair moaned when Solona tried to pull him up. “She went with a  _woman_ ,” he exclaimed in a failed whisper. Solona’s eyes widened once more and Leliana took a grip around his other arm.

“Let’s take you to bed, Alistair” Leliana said to him. He looked into her blue eyes and nodded.

“You are really beautiful”. Leliana giggled and Alistair let his gaze slide to Solona. “You are also very beautiful”.

“Thank you, Alistair, but try to stand up now”. He let his eyes slide once more to Morrigan who quickly excused herself and left the tavern before he had the time to say something to her as well.

“Okey, I obey” he chuckled as he did his best to go with them.

 

*

 

Elissa woke up amongst the crumpled sheets, blinded by the early morning light. She looked around, at first not recognizing her whereabouts. It did only take a second, however, for her to lay eyes on the sleeping woman next to her. While the foregoing night was not much more than a blurred memory, she would have found herself smiling, if not her head had throbbed.

“Andraste’s ass”, she moaned as she massaged her temples and the woman, who had stirred awake, smiled mischievously as she stretched herself.

“And here I was, hoping you would think of _my_ ass”, she purred, and Elissa grinned, and turned to her. Slowly, she let her fingers follow the woman’s body, noticing the muscles that belonged to one who knew how to fight. This was certainly not a simple peasant daughter, she thought, as her fingers lingered around a healing gash. Who was she?

“Your ass looks like it belongs to a god”, Elissa said with a rowdy smile.

 The woman laughed and put a quick kiss on her nose. “Charmer”. She then glanced out the small window, her eyes scrunching at the light. “You should probably sneak out before my family wakes up”.

That idea sounded pretty good. 

“Yes, I should”. Elissa yawned and the woman reached for her as Elissa was about to sit up, her hand touching the puckered scar on her back. One of the three reminders she was destined to bear after Ishal. Elissa unconsciously jerked away, not wanting the memory to replay in her mind. Not now, when she for once had slept through the night. Well, most of it, anyway. 

“You shouldn’t have survived those”, she stated, quickly pulling back her hand. 

“Who said that I did”, Elissa muttered, before she kicked away the sheets and rose up. _What a buzz killer_.

As she donned a tunic and leggings, she lay eyes on the sheathed sword that lay in an open chest. Her eyes returned to the woman and Elissa, somewhat ashamed for her rude remark, saw that the woman bit the inside of her cheek, clearly a bit embarrassed for her earlier intrusion. They both knew that a tryst like this was supposed to be simple, and more importantly, as anonymous it could be. 

“I am sorry”, Elissa said when she was about to open the woman’s bedroom door. “Thank you for the night. I… It was exactly what I needed”. Elissa gave her a quick smile before she left the woman’s room, glad to leave the awkward situation.

When she got downstairs she directly came into the kitchen. Her eyes widened as she saw her companions sit and eat at the dinner table with three people she didn’t recognize. Solona gasped when she noticed Elissa in the doorway, and all eyes turned to her.

_Fuck._


	7. Chapter 7

Leliana watched as Elissa’s face grew pink where she stood in the hall with all their gazes turned at her, noticing her failed attempt to sneak out. The morning sun shone on her long, tousled hair. A smile tugged at her lips. The Maker would probably think lesser of her for thinking that Elissa deserved the embarrassment.

Leandra, however, only gave Elissa a soft smile, and when she spoke, she spoke with a gentleness that confused Elissa; it was as if she had accepted what had happened under her roof.

“I’ll take it you’ve already met Marian”. Leandra gestured to the two other persons Elissa hadn’t met earlier and introduced them. “This is my other daughter, Bethany, and my son Carver”.

Carver mumbled a good morning and Bethany grinned with a face that revealed that she was going to know all about what Elissa’s done later.

“And I am Leandra Amell, proud aunt to my dear Solona. Solona is my cousin Revka’s child”. Leandra gave Solona a warm look as she clarified their kinship. “You may sit here and dine with us if you’d like”.

Elissa didn’t make any attempt to move – she was unable to do so. She remembered that she had heard the name before. 

“ _Lady_ Leandra Amell?”, Elissa asked after a while, and the older woman got a puzzled look on her face. Elissa turned her gaze to Solona. “Is she your aunt?”. Elissa looked almost as puzzled as Leandra, and Solona nodded in confusion.

“My mother and Lady Landra always spoke warmly of you, my lady”, Elissa said and bowed with the grace of a noble. Her stature changed completely – from a commoner being caught on her walk of shame, to one of that belonged in the royal courts, despite her ordinary clothes. This made Leliana understand how Elissa managed to woo women despite the sarcastic and impious attitude and behavior she showed the day before when they met at the tavern.

“Lady Landra?”, Leandra wondered and she closed her eyes, searching in her memory. “Who is your mother, child?”

“Eleanor Cousland, my lady”, Elissa continued. The stairs creaked as Marian descended them, her visage revealing surprise to see that Elissa was still there.

“Elissa?” Leandra stood up and walked slowly towards her. Marian and Solona looked at each other, wondering what it was that happened. “You’re alive?” Leandra tenderly cupped Elissa's cheeks, disbelieving. “I thought... I thought all of you... When I heard what happened...”

“No, lady Leandra”, Elissa said and paused. “Warden-Commander Duncan conscripted me the same night, and he saved my life by doing so.” Another pause.  “I am the only one left. Fergus... he fell during the battle of Ostagar”.

“Oh. I see. The war... has taken from us all”. Leandra sighed heavily and returned to her seat, leaning her brow against her hand. “Your mother and Landra were very dear to me. The last years we corresponded, but not as often we would have liked” A beat, and Leandra smiled. “But don’t think I don’t know some of what you have been up to”. She pointed a finger at her. “Marian, you better watch out for her”.

Marian flashed a wide smile, revealing a straight set of white teeth. “She wasn’t that dangerous, mother. She was more… of a drunken lamb”. Elissa blushed again and Bethany laughed lightly when Marian kissed Elissa’s cheek, before grabbing a bit of bread from the table. She handed a bite to Elissa.

Leliana was no stranger to secrets, and she guessed Elissa had more than she let on – even if some, clearly, was more open than others.

"Carver and Marian just returned from Ostagar", Leandra explained, wringing her hands. There existed nothing more painful than waving one's children away to war - Elissa had seen it in her own mother's eyes.

Marian's grin faded away at the reminder, and she met her brother's knowing eyes. The slaughter they had witnessed was indescribable, to vile to even put into words. 

Leandra noticed her children's unwillingness to speak about the battle, so instead, she turned to her niece and the other guests and told them of how she came to know Eleanor Mac Eanraig, from a time before she became a Cousland - and a time before she became the Seawolf. 

 

*

 

“Take care of yourself, dear niece”. Leandra embraced Solona warmly, as they stood outside their prosaic house. “I promise that we will leave for Kirkwall as soon as we can. When this Blight is over, I hope you’ll come and visit us. We have so much to talk about”. When Leandra let go of their embrace, Bethany stood in line to hug her. Bethany was also a mage, but lived as an apostate, just as her father had done. Luckily, Alistair was smart enough not to comment that, and Solona began to realize that Morrigan was right about the Circle serving as a prison rather than anything else. Solona couldn’t help but envy her cousin’s freedom.  
“I would love to”, Solona said with a big smile, and saw in her corner of the eye how Marian kissed Elissa... on the lips! She realized that living in the Circle probably made her more narrow-minded than most. She hadn’t before this morning thought it even was possible for two women to... _unite,_ in such a way. The sight made her long for Cullen, even though Elissa did look more surprised than pleased.

She remembered the Wilds, and the treaties. Alistair had told her that they had treaties to get the mages’ help against the Blight, and she wondered if she would meet Cullen when they went to the Tower. Something in her stomach fluttered at the thought, and she wondered if it was positive. 

Marian and Carver waved her goodbye, and the sight of the Amell family warmed Solona’s heart. She finally had the family she always longed for. Leandra warned her that Solona’s mother, Revka, wouldn’t welcome her home. Apparently, she was dedicated to the Chantry and thought of magic as something foul. From what Leandra had heard, all five of Revka's children had been born with magic in their veins, and had been snatched at young ages, placed in different Circles all over Thedas.

"It is no wonder", Leandra had said as they still sat around the table, "that Revka has been manipulated into becoming an adamant believer. Desperation... has that effect. Bethany and Malcolm saved me from those awful convictions”. She had then kissed her youngest daughter’s forehead, grateful for having her by her side, and not locked in a Circle. Her eyes got watery at the thought.

Solona's eyes widened. "Four siblings?", she had said, "I only remember that I had one younger sister". While Leandra had not known who Solona's father was, she now knew she had several siblings. Even though the task to track them would be close to impossible. 

When Leandra's home had disappeared from their sight, Alistair said to his companions that, “we have to find Leliana some armor. She can’t come with us dressed as a, uh, Sister”. He did have a point in that, and therefore they went to closest stand.

Leliana chose a leather robe that slicked to her body. Solona smirked when she noticed that Elissa had a hard time not looking at the Orlesian, and Solona guessed the noblewoman probably painted a lot of scenes in her head –  _especially_  because Leliana was a lay sister. 

The merchant said the cost of the armor and Alistair’s eyes widened. “Ouch, that’s pricey.” He turned to his two warden-comrades, whispering so the merchant couldn’t hear him. “We have to haggle”.

Solona and Elissa looked at each other. “Haggle?”, Elissa wondered incredulously. “I have never done such a thing in my life”.

Solona shrugged her shoulders. “Me neither”.

Alistair stared at them, skeptical. “Are you kidding me? You have never _haggled_?”

Elissa sent him a crooked smile. “Tell me why I should have haggled when I had more money than I could use?”

“Good point”, Alistair admitted grumbling, and turned his eyes to Solona. "What is your excuse?"

“I was locked in a tower almost my whole life, Alistair. A _tower_. Why and when was I supposed to haggle?”

“Mhm”, he hummed and a grin grew on his face. “Good I’m sort of an expert then. A _haggle-expert_ ”.

They didn’t get the armor cheaper until Leliana stepped in and persuaded – or rather flirted, with the merchant who let the price drop with almost half the price. Satisfied with the outcome Alistair, who still took credit for the deed, asked if Leliana would like to have a weapon to defend herself. Leliana had pondered the question, and after a moment, she carefully asked if she could get a bow, and mentioned that she had daggers since earlier.

“Since earlier?”, Alistair whispered to Elissa and Solona while Leliana botanized among the few bows that were available at the merchant. Elissa shrugged her shoulders and Solona shook her head. What kind of a lay sister had not one but several daggers?

 

*

 

They had just left the stinking small town called Lothering when they encountered a qunari that was locked into a cage. Or – they guessed it was one; none of the wardens had seen a qunari before.

“The revered mother said he slaughtered an entire family. Even the children”, Leliana explained when Alistair wondered what that was all about.

Solona shook her head. “No one deserves a faith like that; not even a murderer”. Elissa rolled her eyes at the statement; Solona could be so idealistic sometimes. Elissa could easily think of worse faiths for one who kills a whole family.

Rendon Howe will beg for his death.

“What do you think, Elissa?” Alistair asked her, rubbing his cheek. He still looked somewhat pale from yesterday’s drinking.  

“Why not go and check what it is all about. We still have to wait for Morrigan to show up, anyway”. Elissa couldn’t help but sound irritated at Alistair's question. He was supposed to be the Senior Warden, the one making the decisions, but instead, he always sought Solona’s and Elissa’s opinions and guidance.

They closed the distance between them and the cage, and soon they could hear the prisoner chant for himself in a foreign language;

“ _Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun_ ”.

Frost and Truce growled at him. Solona hushed them and they whimpered before they did as they were told.

The qunari stopped chanting as he saw the newcomers. “You aren’t one of my captors. I will not amuse you any more than I have the other humans. Leave me in peace”.

“We do not wish you any harm”, Solona told him, showing her palms. “Who… Who are you?”

The qunari studied her for a while before he answered. “I am Sten of the Beresaad – the vanguard – of the qunari peoples”.

“You are a qunari?” Alistair asked, looking even paler than before. “And you have killed those farmers?”

“Yes, I am. Yes, I did”. His voice was leveled and lacked emotion. Elissa could not deny him some respect for at least confessing his sins.

“Oh... And why are you in a cage? I have never seen someone held like this before”. Alistair looked at Elissa with a perplexed frown.

“I am trapped here as prey for the darkspawn”, was the simple answer.

“As prey?” Solona shook her head. “That’s just horrible!”. Without hesitating, she stepped forward to the cage and cupped the lock with her hands. Her lips moved without a sound, and soon a click was heard. She had used magic to unlock his cage, and Elissa stared incredulously at her.

“What in the Maker’s name do you think you are doing?!”

Solona had the audacity to not even look ashamed, and her altruistic idealism burned in her as she spoke; “We are Grey Wardens, Elissa. We slay darkspawn – it’s not right to leave someone stuck in a cage to be killed by those we by oath are to protect them from!”

Elissa snarled – Solona did have a point, and she defiantly put her hands on her hips while Solona opened the cage’s door. Elissa sought Sten’s eyes, and when she met his gaze, she gave up. When Solona put it like that, she had no other option than agree.

“You are free to go, Sten. Whatever you have done, you do not deserve death by darkspawn”.

The qunari stayed still in the cage, not attempting to step out of it. “You are Grey Wardens?”, he asked, not expecting an answer. “My people have heard of the Grey Warden’s strength and skill... though I suppose not every legend is true”. Alistair glared at him with folded arms, but Sten continued without taking any notice. “You set me free. I will follow you against the Blight, and in doing so, I shall find my atonement”. 

“Very well. As we apparently said earlier”, Elissa muttered and sneered at Leliana, “we need all the help we can get.” She turned around and faced her group as Sten finally stepped out of the cage. “I think Morrigan mentioned that she would be around there”, she said as she pointed at the forest. “So I guess that is where we should head”.

Solona and Alistair went next to each other as the party walked towards the forest. “I’m sorry”, he blurted and blushed.

“For what?” Solona looked at him with raised brows.

“For being suspicious about magic. I... I was taught... The Chantry taught me that magic was something... I don’t know. Something you were supposed to fear. Something that needed to be controlled. You have proven otherwise. I just want you to know that I never was very into the templar-thingy. I was more forced into it. However. I just want to say that I’m glad you’re here”.

“Then I’m sorry too”, Solona smiled. “When we first met at the Tower, I didn’t trust you, after you said you’ve been in templar training. You have also proven otherwise”. Solona looked down to the ground. “The Chantry taught us the very same. I knew people who _wanted_ to be made tranquil, because they feared themselves”. She looked back up and Alistair met her eyes, daring to return her smile, relieved she accepted his apology.

“They wanted to be made tranquil?”. He scratched his chin. “Well, it’s certainly a good thing we’ve sorted this out then”

 

When the group got to the tree line, they heard a male voice shout; “Oi!”.

Elissa raised a hand, commanding her companions to stop. Her gaze rapidly swept over the moss-covered tree trunks, searching for the disembodied voice.  An armored man soon showed himself, letting his boots softly pace over the soft woodland, followed by a group of men.

“We done heard what was said. You’re a Warden”. He let his eyes drift over each one of them. “I don’t know if you killed King Cailan, and Maker forgive me, I don’t care. But that bounty on your head could feed a lot of hungry bellies”. An almost somber look shadowed his face, but it faded as he bared his teeth, raising his sword up in the air.

“Attack!” he shouted to his men, and Elissa immediately pulled out her family sword, letting the shield remain on her back. She knew what poverty and hunger could do to people, but she had been privileged enough to never seen it for herself. Even the elves in the Alienage back at Highever had decent standards, something the Couslands was proud of – one of the few noble houses that opposed the institutionalized racism. She  _almost_  felt sorry for the bandits. Few children dreamt of being highwaymen when they grew up.

“Too bad you didn’t ask nicely for money”, she shouted to them, her voice coarse. “I’m pretty sure Solona or...  _Leliana_  would be happy to offer you a few coins”. Elissa gave Solona a quick glance. “I’m not stupid nor blind, Solona. I saw you with those beggars”. She was pleased that Solona finally had the decency to let her face grew red. “If Alistair says we even have to haggle, maybe we should not give it all away to charity”.

"I only gave what already had been taken from them", Solona murmured, before she turned her attention from Elissa to Leliana. “Let us get some distance”, she said to Leliana as they changed their position so they could fire at the enemies from afar. Leliana held her longbow in a familiar grip, letting the almost forgotten sensation of treated wood get acquainted with her no longer calloused fingers.

“Truce!”, Elissa screamed. “Eat!”.

With a growl, Truce went to attack one of the bandits who screeched in panic as the large hound snapped at his throat. Blood dripped from his jaws as he searched for the next target. The good family dog was no more -- out here, he was what his genes had decided for him. A war dog with rabid, bloodthirsty eyes.

Elissa looked at the large qunari next to her. “Let us keep you away from the battle, Sten. You do not have any weapon”.

Sten balled his hands into fists. “I do not need a weapon to kill”. He strode towards one of the bandits and used his big fists to knock him out. The first hit made the man’s teeth flew around as a crushing sound revealed that his jaw was broken. The other forced him into the Fade, when his skull bone cracked. The third… Elissa crinkled her nose. The third smashed his face into beyond recognition.

With a heavy breath, Elissa charged against one of the men. She felt the wind from an arrow that flew past her head, and watched as it dug into one of the bandits. Elissa brawled into one of their attackers and raised her sword, letting it sink into his plated shoulder. He screamed as the blade pierced through the metal and entered his flesh, and his wails intensified when she twisted it, and then pulled it out. Gasping, he fell down on his knees.

Elissa, with slow determined motions, lifted the sword anew, preparing to end his life. He tilted his head upwards and ominous eyes stared into hers. For a split of a second, she lost herself in his gaze, and seeing his opportunity, the man in front of her pulled out a dagger from its sheath. Before she realized what was happening, he cried out and lunged towards her, sticking the blade deep into her shin. She felt how it shattered her bone, and she choked on a scream.  By reflex, Elissa raised her uninjured leg and kicked him in the face. His nose cracked and their blood mixed with the mud on the ground. Shifting her weight to the uninjured leg, she struggled to raise her blade that felt heavier than ever before. Leliana noticed, and swiftly nocked another arrow and aimed at the fallen bandit.

When Elissa saw that an arrow pierced the man’s skull, she almost believed that Leliana truly was sent by the Maker to aid them, and her muscles sighed with relief as she lowered her sword. Elissa looked up from the dead man just in time to see a wolf dig its teeth into the last highwayman’s throat. The wolf looked warily at her with yellow eyes that could not belong to any other than Morrigan.Slowly, the wolf let the now lifeless body fall to the ground, and with the color of magic surrounding her, she slowly transformed back to a woman; and instead of a wolf, a very naked Morrigan stood before them with a primal grin, and blood coloring her teeth.

“You’re a shapeshifter?” Solona wondered with an awe-struck voice, panting from exhaustion. She had read about polymorphism, and even written a paper about it, but never witnessed it herself. It was a quite rare ability these days -- it was not even taught in the Circles around Thedas.

“Yes”, Morrigan answered coolly – stating the obvious, without letting her eyes avert from Elissa’s. “You need to attend to that wound. Let us go to my camp, and I’ll see what I can do”.

The adrenaline in her body had made her forget about the leg, but as the amount of the hormone in her bloodstream faded, a burning pain began to slice through her leg’s entire nerve system. With a blanched face, Elissa decided to look down at gash. The dagger still remained in her shin. Her armor that just had been repaired was yet again broken.

“Noo!” she moaned. “The armor –-“

Leliana grabbed her as she was about to tumble in the ground.

Truce immediately went to his mistress’ side and whimpered while Frost watched them with a tilted head. Alistair, who was passive during the fight, hurried to help Leliana keep Elissa on her feet.

“I will talk to you later”, Elissa promised him in an accusatory tone, and despite her pain, she managed to give him a glare. They were to trust each other with their lives – he had said so himself as they fought the bandits outside Lothering - and he couldn’t simply just stand by as the other engaged in the heat of battle, no matter how much he detested to take the lives of men. Solona opened her pack and handed Morrigan a plaid to wrap around her body, and the party went towards Morrigan’s camp. Alistair’s face was crimson red. No one knew if it was of shame from Elissa’s scolding, or embarrassment from seeing Morrigan naked.

Maybe it was both.


	8. Chapter 8

Morrigan made sure to take care of the wound as well she was able to. She did not like to take care of another being -- especially not one who whined like a child. And, despite she never would admit it, she found that the responsibility scared her.

When she pulled out the dagger from Elissa’s leg, she degraded herself to ask Solona for help to stop the massive bleeding. Elissa muffled her screams by biting into her own arm so that blood almost erupted through the skin. Sweat poured down her contorted face. Neither Solona nor Morrigan were experienced healers, so Elissa had to rely on their scarce knowledge in common wound treatment.

It was not the first time Solona wished she had listened more to Wynne, who had been one of her healing mentors back at the Circle. She remembered that she one time told Wynne that healing wasn’t as exciting as fighting spells. She regretted it deeply as Elissa let out another pained groan.

“I believe the dagger caused damage to your nerves”, Morrigan stated after bandaging her.

Elissa glared at her with watery eyes and growled. “Oh, really - you don’t say?”. Morrigan arched one of her brows, and listened as Elissa continued her harangue. “Of course it did! Maker, the pain flashes all the way up to my bloody arm!” Elissa pointedly waved her right arm in the air.

Solona shook her head, but remained quiet. It was to no use to ask Elissa to calm down - her outburst where not derived from anger, but pain. Instead, she bathed the wounded warden’s forehead with a cool cloth and looked worriedly at Morrigan who pursed her lips.

“She’ll get a fever soon”, Solona mumbled to her and Morrigan nodded, letting her index finger stroke her lips while thinking.

“I will go and see if I can find any antipyretic herbs”, Morrigan said after a short while and gave Elissa a quick glance. Solona thought that she for a second could see a concerned wrinkle between her brows. “If I only had my grimoire...”, Morrigan pondered for herself before lifting the tent flap and leaving them.

Solona put away the cloth. “I have something for you. I bought it in Lothering yesterday”. She crouched by her pack and brought out a beautifully carved wooden pipe. When she gave it to Elissa, it seemed like she managed to forget her pain.

“It looks like a laurel”, she breathed, stunned. Elissa let her thumb gently follow the pipe’s carvings. “There is a laurel in the Cousland emblem”. She grabbed Solona’s hand, and Solona felt that her body temperature had risen. “Thank you”.

“I will go see if I have any elfroot in my tent. I’ll be back soon, I promise”. She squeezed Elissa’s hand.

“Do not make promises”, Elissa groaned and slowly pulled away her hand and closed her eyes. “Please. Do not make promises to me, Solona”.

Solona looked at her warden-sister. “Okey. No more promises”. She laid the damp cloth back on Elissa’s forehead before leaving the tent. Alistair and Sten had already lit a campfire, and Leliana sat on a tree stump and manufactured arrowheads. She paused when Solona came out of the tent.

Sten had dragged a log close to the camp fire. Solona walked into his and Alistair's conversation.

“... Grey Wardens are not living up to their legends. It is as I suspected”.

“It’s not her fault”, Alistair muttered in response to Sten. “It was mine. I wasn’t fighting next to her as I should’ve. I just... I didn’t want to kill more men”.

Without any change in his stoic expression, Sten responded, “I do not see how what you are saying changes my statement”.

Solona sighed as she went past them. “Don’t continue, Alistair. It’s not your fault. Accidents happen, and no one is to blame”.

“I am of a different opinion”, Sten said with his leveled voice. “Women do not belong in battle”.

Alistair snorted and changed his seat to one next to Leliana. It was impossible, he thought, that she could be a worse conversationalist. “What a merry group you’ve joined”, he drawled and gave her a lopsided smile. “You can at least comfort yourself with that our quest is honorable”.

Leliana smiled kindly back at him. “You want to help me with these?” She pointed at the arrowheads. “I can show you how it is done”.

“Gladly!” Alistair answered and let his gaze follow Solona as she went back to Elissa. The two hounds laid and rested together outside of her tent. It did not take long before Solona yet again stepped out, this time with a pipe in her hand. She took a small stick from the fire and let the elfroot ignite before she went back in.

“What was that?” Leliana asked with a curious look.

“Ah, just Elissa who needs to get her fix”, Alistair jested with twinkling eyes. “I think she from now on will start to brag about the elfroot’s medicinal features”.

 

*

 

“Here you go”. Solona reached Elissa the lit pipe, worried about her fellow warden’s state. Elissa’s eyes began to get a feverish glance in them. Solona hoped that Morrigan soon was to return, successful in finding what it now was she looked for. Elissa took a few inhales and her of pain tensed body relaxed.  
“Thank you”, she whispered hoarsely and Solona bathed her forehead for a while before Elissa suddenly got up into a sitting stature. “Please. Help me out to the fire. I can not stand lying here anymore”.

“I am not supposed –“

“It was  _not_  a question”.

Solona looked into her stubborn eyes and decided to do what she wanted. Truce barked happily when Elissa left the tent with the help from Solona, and when she fell down by the fire, pinching the bridge of her nose, Truce rolled around on the ground before he calmed down and leaned his head against her shoulder. Elissa kissed the dog’s cheek and asked him to lie down next to her.

Solona handed her the pipe and sat down on the log. Alistair looked up from the arrows he made with Leliana’s help and guidance. “You shouldn’t be up”, he chastised, giving Elissa a serious look.

“There are a lot of things I should not do or be”, she quipped, and softened her words with a pale smile. She stared into the flames and blew a cloud of smoke in his direction. “I… I just could not stand being in there”. The thought of being immobile, just as her father had been that night… Elissa narrowed her brows, and something in her chest twisted. If he’d only had been able to leave…

Leliana tucked away her newly made arrows and looked at her new companions, wanting to lighten the dulled mood. “I could tell you a story if you’d like”.

Elissa curled her lips and snorted. “So the lay sister not only has daggers and can shoot – quite good may I add, with a longbow. She is also a… storyteller?”

“I wasn’t always a sister of the Chantry”. Her blue eyes invaded Elissa’s green. “Many of us lived a more... colorful life, before we joined the Chantry. I myself was a minstrel”.

“Then you can tell us a story of your life as a...  _minstrel_ ”, Elissa responded in a challenging tone. Leliana gave her a polite smile.

“Or,” she countered, “you can tell us what happened to your family”.

Elissa flinched and gave her a look that Leliana almost believed could kill. She knew that her question wasn’t gracefully asked, and she suspected she headed into a sensitive subject. The curious look on the other Grey Wardens’ faces revealed that they didn’t know Elissa's background as well. Sten, on the other hand, seemed completely indifferent. Leliana would probably be surprised if he had. And, in her peripheral vision, Leliana sighted Morrigan who had returned with a pouch in her hand. She stood in the shadows, presumably so that neither Elissa nor Solona could see that she was there. It was clear that she wanted to know the story too.

Elissa averted her eyes and stood up, swaying. She took a last inhale and her feverish eyes got a sober look while she emptied the pipe. She straightened her back and her cold gaze returned to Leliana’s challenging eyes. Elissa let her wounded leg take as much burden as the healthy one, and Leliana saw Solona open her mouth to tell her not to. Alistair gave her a look that made her close her mouth, and her attention returned to Elissa as she began to speak;

“There was once an envious man that lurked in the corners of good men. He dined at their tables and ingested their good wills.  He even drew his sword with them, and he killed for them. He was trusted; even though his father betrayed his homeland.

‘Do not blame the traitor’s son’, one of the good men chanted when the traitor hanged dead in his snare. ‘This son loves the crown more than life itself, and thus he deserves love in return’.

And maybe he once was good; maybe evil doesn’t run in men’s veins…” She paused, thinking about what Cailan had said about it back at Ostagar. Truce looked up at her and whined. Mabari dogs were well known for their intelligence, and somehow he knew what his mistress spoke of. Her eyes didn’t slide away from Leliana’s, and she continued.

“The traitor’s son was given land and titles. He was loved by his brethren and his subjects. But darkness grew in him and devoured him, and he wanted more. Always, he wanted more. To dine with good men was no longer enough. To receive good wills from good men were no longer enough. To be loved by his subjects was no longer enough.

When his cherished country was on the verge of a Civil War he saw his chance. He was loved; not only by good men, but also by evil men. Evil men that forsaken their country for greed. Evil men that did not care about the love to others – no, only about the love others had to give.

It was a night when the downfall of the world lured closer, when he chose to take the good men’s tables for himself. He no longer fought with them, and neither did he kill for them. No – and with the evil men’s blessing, he fought the good men, and he killed them. All but one. One that was saved by being forced to live with death within her veins. Forced to keep on living and honoring fallen good men’s sense of duty. Forced to fight against the downfall of the world.

Forced to endure a liar’s  _stupidity_ ”.

She spat in front of Leliana’s feet, spun around and walked into her tent with Truce right behind her. The claustrophobic sensation in the tent suddenly felt a lot more pleasant than her companions' gazes.

She'd had enough of the outdoors today, anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

“Well, that was a good story”, Alistair mumbled. Leliana looked down on the moss covered ground, avoiding the eyes of the others.

“She told the context of that to you last night, Senior Warden. Alas, you were too drunk to remember it”, Morrigan said with her regular voice that dripped with disdain. “She said a man by the name of Rendon Howe murdered her family and that your… _beloved_ , Warden-Commander promised her vengeance. A promise forever unfulfilled, now when also he has perished”.

“Rendon Howe?”, Alistair blurted, with a shadow in his eyes from when Morrigan mentioned Duncan. “The Arl of Amaranthine?”

Solona grasped his forearm. "You know him?” 

“No, but I know _of_ him. He is close to Loghain, and one of few Loghain trusts". Alistair paused. "I wonder what the teyrn is up to”.

“He left your comrades and the king himself to die. And, according to your own testimony, he sent his men in order to kill you three in the tower where Mother dear found you. I firmly believe you can think of something – given time… a _lot_ of time”, Morrigan said before spinning around, to stride to her own camp where she was to prepare the herbs she gathered. 

“Do you think he wants to take the throne?”. Solona looked at Alistair whose brows were furrowed in confusion.

“Maybe. I do not know. I mean, Queen Anora is his daughter. Would he really usurp the throne from her?”

Leliana took a deep breath and decided to join their conversation. “I might be wrong but, Anora only has… _liens de mariage_ to the throne, _oui_? It was Cailan who had the royal blood. And with no heir…” She let the words trail off and it did not take long until Alistair jolted up to his feet. He looked stressed, and dragged his hands through his hair.

“You are right, Sister Leliana. We must alert Arl Eamon of this - if he doesn’t already know, will say”.

 

*

 

They had been traveling for a couple of days when the first nightmare came to her. Alistair had told her that was going to happen, but the knowledge hadn’t make it less unsettling. The archdemon had stared at her, _roared_ at her. Solona realized that it probably would be impossible to return to sleep, so she went out to join Alistair and Leliana who had one of the night’s watch shifts.

“Bad dream, huh?” Alistair asked when he saw that she left her tent.

“That’s certainly one word for it”, Solona said. Shivering, she hugged herself.

“Congratulations are in order then”, he gave her a crooked smile. “You should be able to sense darkspawn now.”

Leliana looked at them with a slightly tilted head. “How does it feel, when you sense them?”

“It depends”, Alistair answered truthfully. “If they are few, it is like a tingling notion in your head. When they are more than a few… it feels like nails. When there are as many as they were at Ostagar, it feels as if your head is going to explode. Oh, all the wonders of being a Grey Warden. How can one not love it?”  
Solona mock-hit his shoulder and he looked at her with glimmering, brown eyes. “You know,” he continued, “I can’t stop wondering why you volunteered to join the order. I know my reasons, and Elissa was conscripted. But yours?”.

“... What were your reasons, then?”, Solona deflected, not sure if she was to answer him or not.

“I wanted to belong somewhere", he admitted casually. "I didn’t belong with the templars and I never had a real family, but at the order… I found companionship”. His eyes went somber. “I can’t believe they are all dead…”

“I got in trouble at the Circle”, Solona confessed after some seconds of silence and she was happy to see that his eyes got back its glimmering.

“Really?”

“Will you tell us what happened?”, Leliana wondered with her kind, accented voice. 

“I tried to...”, she closed her eyes, ”I tried to help two friends escape. It didn’t exactly go as planned. Lily... was punished by being sent to her Harrowing, even though she wasn’t prepared… I-I doubt she made it because I haven’t seen her again”. Solona felt how tears began to mist her eyes, and when they finally fell, she made no attempt to wipe them away. Lily deserved to have someone weeping for her. “Jowan escaped and I haven’t heard anything more. He was... foolish". She clenched her jaw and stressed the last words repeatedly; " _So foolish_. He turned to blood magic. And I… I wasn’t fully prepared for my Harrowing either. But at least I survived". She shivered at the memory of the deceptive Mouse. "But I couldn’t stand most of them anymore. I miss Wynne, Irving, and Cullen, but that’s about it. I’m more than happy to be out of that place. I can feel the wind in my hair and the sun on my face. I couldn’t wish for anything more. Even if I, together with solely two other Wardens, have to kill an archdemon we don’t even know how to kill”.  She let out a mirthless chuckle.

Alistair chortled, and draped his arm around her waist. Solona felt safe in his embrace. She could feel his heartbeats through his shirt and enjoyed the way his muscular arm felt around her. “I want to go to Kinloch Hold so I can see if Wynne is still alive, but at the same time, I hate that I have to go back there”.

Leliana gave her a compassionate look and Solona came to miss Alistair’s embrace when he pulled away.

“So, Elissa still haven’t spoken to you?”, Solona asked, eager to change the subject, and Leliana looked properly ashamed.

“No, she hasn’t. She won’t even look at me. I shouldn’t have said what I did. She even speaks with _Sten_ ”.

“It’s not your fault”, Alistair said. “You couldn’t know. She didn’t even let Leandra speak much of it”.

 “I’m not innocent. I heard when she told Leandra she was the only one left. I… just didn’t want to speak of my own past. Not like that. I promise I will tell you about it… when I’m ready”.

“Take your time. We won’t go anywhere. We have a Blight to fight and we are all in this together, remember?”

“Thank you... for respecting my wish”. Leliana tried to hide a yawn with her hand.

“You can go to sleep if you’d like. It’s not like I will be able to anyway”. Solona gave Leliana a smile.

“ _Merci,_ Solona. I think my time at the Chantry has affected me with their strict routines. I’ll see you two tomorrow”. With that, Leliana went to her tent.

It ended with Alistair and Solona talking through the whole night. They didn’t bother to wake Morrigan or Sten up for their shift.

 

*

 

“Alistair, don’t fucking chicken out this time”, Elissa growled when they encountered a group of highwaymen arguing with two traveling merchants. Her wound was infected and she tried her best to hide her worsened condition. Morrigan had given her poppy juice for the pain and a disgusting root for her to chew several times á day to help her keep the fever down. Elissa was not entirely sure they helped.

“Oi!” she screamed to the highwaymen who looked at the party with surprise in their eyes. “If you want to live, you leave. If you want to die, I will give you the honor to die fighting”.  She pulled out her sword and loosened her shield from her back.

Her proclamation did not receive the answer she thought it would have. The bandits only jeered at her as they laid eyes on her pale face and limping walk. It did not help that none of her companions had yet taken out a weapon. Solona looked at Elissa with a puzzled face and Alistair swallowed hard but laid a hand on his sword, prepared to intervene. He didn't want to break her trust once more. 

“Are you sure? It would be such a shame if you were to die after such a bold statement”. The bandit grinned toothlessly at her.

“Draw your weapon and kill me then”. Elissa threw away her shield and it hit the ground with a loud bang. “Shame is all I know, so it would be a most suitable death for me”.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. She was surrounded by dramatic children _._

“You have more important things to do. Remember the Blight?”, she reminded in a low voice. Morrigan then let her narrowed eyes pierce through Elissa’s very soul. Her gaze reminded Elissa of her mother’s when she caught Elissa coming home from the brothel, stinking of booze and cheap perfume. Elissa swayed. What wouldn't she do to be with them again?

“One-on-one, yeah?”, the bandit said with that ugly, toothless grin plastered on his face. His companions laughed. “If I die, I promise that my friends here will leave these dwarves alone”. He pointed at the traveling merchants.

“I do not do promises,” Elissa said with a solemn voice and fire in her eyes. “I will kill you all”, she continued looking at the four bandits, who now laughed more than ever.

“Yeah, yeah”. The bandit, seemingly the leader stepped forward and pulled out his sword.

Elissa knew she made a mistake when the bandit made her fall onto her back with just a few, simple moves she should have been able to predict. She was indeed prepared to die, when she saw an opportunity to cheat death. With her weakened arms she as quick as she could lift the unusually heavy family sword and stabbed the bandit through his unprotected inner thigh. His fatal swing stopped mid-air and he looked at her with widened eyes as he fell, dying on top of her. She pulled out a dagger with her free arm and put it in his back and pushed his body away.

“Are you done yet with your performance, Warden?” Morrigan asked, almost bored, with an arched brow.

The rest of the bandits looked at their dead friend and mumbled before they turned their eyes to Elissa’s bloodstained face. “A promise is a promise, yeah?” one of them with a beard said. “Thieves honor and all that. You won, and we’ll be out of your way”. They didn’t wait for her response before they left the road and headed into the forest.

“I am done”, she panted and took up the vial with poppy juice.

“You are done? Well, that was by far the _dumbest_ thing you’ve done, at least”, Solona muttered as she passed by Elissa and walked to the merchants.

“No, it wasn't. I have done dumber things". Elissa flashed a smile. "And you would not let me die, would you?”.

Leliana shook her head, knowing it was the poppy – and maybe her sorrow, that made her take irresponsible decisions like this.

"Would you?", Elissa repeated again and Solona dismissively waved a hand in her direction, muttering. Alistair patted Elissa's shoulder and helped her get up. 

“Mightly timely arrival there, my friends”, the older dwarven merchant said. “I’m much obliged. The name’s Bodahn Feddic, merchant and entrepreneur. This here is my son” he pointed at the younger dwarf “… Sandal. Say hello, my boy”.

“Hello”. His eyes looked distant as if he wasn't entirely present.

“Road’s been mighty dangerous these days”, Bodahn continued. “Mind if I ask what brings you out here? Perhaps we’re going the same way”.

“I doubt you want to travel with the Grey Wardens”, Solona smiled at him.

“Hmph. I suspect you’re right; there´s more excitement on your path than my boy and I can handle. Allow me to bid you farewell and good fortune, though”.

“Wait!” Elissa yelled as Solona told them goodbye. “You do not happen to have a weapon fitting a qunari?”

Bodahn looked up at Sten, stroking his beard while thinking. His face shone up when he figured that he actually might have something. “I have this axe. It is not much, but better than nothing. You can get it – no charge needed. You probably saved our lives and for that we thank you”.

“What do you say, Sten? Is it alright?” Elissa asked.

“Better than none”, he said as he accepted the dwarf’s gift.

“Well, we better be on our way. Say goodbye, Sandal”.

“Goodbye”.

 

*

 

When they arrived at a small inn along the Imperial Highway, Elissa thought she was about to cry. She wanted a bath and a bed more than she's ever done in her whole life. But first, she wanted - no, _needed_ , a drink. Just like she needed Daryn that day in Ostagar, or as she needed to see Iona that last evening.

“No”, Solona said when they opened the door to the inn, as if she could read her mind. Elissa figured that it maybe was so hard after all -- her mind was kind of simple. “You smell like a sewer rat and before you do anything else, you must take a bath. Just make sure that your wound stays dry”.

“’Tis dangerous to drink when you have poppy in your system”, Morrigan added warningly.

Elissa handed Solona the coin purse and sighed. “Could you _please_ go and book some rooms, then? Sten wants to camp outside and Morrigan wants one of her own and I... really need to sit down”. She panted and slumped down on the closest chair. Her eyes widened at the sight of the staircase.  _How in the Maker’s name am I supposed to climb those fucking stairs?_

“Once upon a time”, an Orlesian voice whispered in her ear, “I enjoyed the company of bad men and women”. The Chantry Sister -- the  _liar --_ fell down on a chair next to her. “But I never enjoyed the company of stupid ones”.

“And why are you telling me that, _Sister_?”. Elissa refused to look at her.

“No reason”, she answered with her almost singing voice.

Elissa was glad when Solona returned. She was no longer alone with the woman she had come to resent.

“They had three rooms available. One single to Morrigan”, she reported and handed Morrigan her key, “and two double rooms. How should we divide us?”

Elissa groaned. _For Maker’s sake._  


	10. Chapter 10

Daryn Cauthrien’s eyes were downcast in a futile attempt to avoid the nobles’ judging gazes at the Landsmeet.

She had betrayed them and their country. Bile and self-hatred burned in her throat, and she swallowed, trying to drown the feelings. It was all in vain. Her stomach boiled with self-loathing.

In secret, she admired Bann Teagan, one of Cailan’s uncles, who was the only one that was brave enough to openly question Loghain when the self-appointed Regent spoke of what happened at Ostagar. It was shamelessly, how Loghain blamed the Grey Wardens for the late king’s death. Teagan was clever enough to suspect that something smelled foul, and for that, he earned her deepest respect.

She wanted to scream out the truth to the crowd; telling them that Loghain indeed was the sole reason for the Battle of Ostagar’s failure. But she couldn’t. By oath, she was to serve him, and by keeping her oath, maybe she could still have some valor.

Daryn knew she tricked herself; there was no atonement for what she had done. She had betrayed the Crown. The righteous Crown -- not the one Loghain wore, the one that was made of Fool's Gold. 

She breathed out when the meeting was over, but she could not retain her relief for long. As the people scattered, she saw Anora purposefully walking towards her.

“Your Majesty”, Daryn greeted her hoarsely while she performed a bow. She had to strain herself from coughing as the bile almost made her choke on her words.

Anora tilted her head in a short nod, wordlessly greeting back. “May we talk in private, Ser Cauthrien?”, she wondered. Daryn did not miss the undercurrents in her tone.

She bit the inside of her cheek before answering, “Of course, Your Majesty”.  Daryn followed the queen to her private chambers, and with a simple gesture, Anora emptied the room of servants. Even her first handmaiden, Erlina, was dismissed. After making sure no one could hear them, Anora turned to the knight that served her father.

“I have a few questions I would appreciate if you could answer”, she said, her voice a bit frosty. 

Daryn swallowed hard, and Anora raised a questioning brow.

“Then I will do my best answering them”, she responded after a tense minute of silence. Now when they were alone, they could loosen the formality. 

“Are… the Grey Wardens truly to blame for the death of Cailan?”

Anora held her breath as she awaited Daryn’s answer. The frost that recently weighed her voice was gone, and made room for her fears. Bann Teagan’s questioning had sown a seed of doubt in her regarding her father’s greatness.

Anora detested not knowing the truth, and was by the opinion that the truth, even when it stung, was preferable to oblivious bliss.

Daryn didn’t know what to tell her. The fact that Anora’s father, whom she trusted and loved more than anyone else in the world, was the one responsible or if it were the Grey Wardens - with Elissa among them, that saw to the king’s tragic fate.

Daryn knew that Anora had grown to love Cailan. A sweet, calm love, but love nonetheless. Daryn could not hide it. She deserved the truth.

Yet, she stood quiet, not able to speak, afraid of what events opening the box of secrets could lead.

Anora relentlessly continued pressing for an answer, “Father told me that Lady Cousland... No". Anora shook her head and turned her body away from Cauthrien. "Father told me that Ellie was with the Grey Wardens at Ostagar. He said that her family was executed due to treason, but I cannot imagine them do such a foul thing. The Couslands’ were loyal to the crown and country, were they not, Daryn?”. Time was ticking. "Please", Anora finally pleaded, not able to show her visage as both the lie or truth Daryn were to tell her would be equally as hurtful.

“I...". Daryn clenched her jaw before she let her shoulders sag. "Anora, I believe they were loyal. I _know_ they were”.

Daryn felt sick. She could hear Loghain’s voice echo in the back of her mind. _Your darling Cousland is dead. I made sure of that. Their family was a bunch of treasonous whores anyway._ She remembered Elissa’s skin, warm against her own. Her kisses, first trembling and then more demanding. She remembered the way the smell of dirt and grass mixed with Elissa’s scent.  _I needed to see you._  The way she moaned in Daryn’s mouth.  _I will be there, Elissa. I promise_.

_I failed that promise to you._

“I shall tell you the truth. I _need_ to tell you the truth”. Cauthrien let her eyes dart around Anora's chamber one more time, as if she was making sure not even a single elven servant was still standing in the shadows, listening.

Anora forced herself to look at her. She had decided that she could not hide from what Cauthrien was to tell her. No matter the pain. 

And it would certainly be most painful. But, no matter what, Anora would appreciate Daryn's honesty.

“Yes?”

“Loghain commanded me to retreat when we were supposed to intervene. The Grey Wardens... did not do anything wrong. They died because they followed the plan. And”, Daryn swallowed, her eyes brimmed with tears she refused to let fall, “he told me he himself saw to the death of Elissa”.

Anora pinched the bridge of her nose and looked stated, more tired than emotional. Daryn was not overly surprised at Anora's reaction. Sometimes, when overwhelmed with emotion, the world seemed surreal. It would take Anora some time to process it all.

And Daryn knew she could not be there supporting her when her walls would crumble.

Anora spoke her next words slowly, her eyes boring into Daryn's, “My father is not the man he once was. Am I correct?”

Daryn did not break eye contact. She was a coward, yes, but she wished to amend some of the sins she had committed. In order to do so, she had to suffer through the consequences. “I am afraid that you are, Your Majesty”.

“Thank you, Ser Daryn, for your honesty.” She looked at Daryn for a moment before she continued, eyes and voice equally as cold. “We can never speak of this again.”

 

*

 

Elissa and Alistair drank together, clinking their glasses together while chattering. Solona watched them, amused. She got why Morrigan was eager to leave Alistair in her and Leliana's hands back in Lothering. 

She had relieved Morrigan of her position as their nanny maiden and sat with them, sipping on her mead, and watched as they played a game of Wicked Grace. Solona laughed when Elissa won once again and flashed Alistair a grin.

“You cheat!” he exclaimed with a frustrated face, pointing an accusing finger at Elissa. She did not seem to care substantially about the indictment.

“So what?”. Elissa reached over the table and mock-hit his shoulder. “I still won, did I not?”

Alistair growled and Elissa waved to the bar maiden, asking her to refill her cup.

"You are not supposed to drink at all, you know”, Solona said with a pointing glance. Elissa pouted her damp lips, and was just about to answer, when Leliana joined them. Solona felt her lips curl; Leliana's talent in shutting Elissa's blathering mouth was underrated.

“Couldn’t sleep?”, Solona asked. Leliana’s relatively short hair was a bit tousled and her eyes swollen.

“ _Oui._ It seems as it now is my turn to suffer from nightmares”, Leliana responded with a pale smile as she stretched over the table and snatched Elissa’s cup. “ _Merci beaucoup”_ , she said to her with a wink.

Alistair's head fell back as he guffawed at Elissa’s baffled face. The schadenfreude was most pleasant, and his eyes glimmered from it. Justice at last. 

“Can I play with you?”, Leliana asked them. Alistair nodded but sent a feigned glare in Elissa’s direction.

“Only so you know", he warned, "she  _cheats_ ”.

“Bah. I think I can handle her”, she smiled smugly.

Elissa wanted to be mad when Leliana caught her cheating and outmaneuvered her, but instead, she burst out laughing. She made sure to blame it on the alcohol, but when Leliana even did so Alistair came in second, she could no longer hold on to the irk.

“Maker save me. I will never win another round as long as you are with. Tell me if I am wrong; as a minstrel, you have a lot of playing experience, and as a Chantry sister, you always seek the truth, huh? I have nothing to put up against that.”

Solona nibbled her lips until she realized that Elissa’s words didn’t have a sarcastic undertone; she just stated it as a somewhat slurry matter-of-fact.

“You could say that, yes”. Leliana said a bit meekly. Elissa, who had ordered another drink after hers was robbed, raised her new cup and gestured Alistair to do the same. Alistair, unsure what the upcoming toast would be, did so cautiously.

He let go of the caution when he heard what she had to say.

“In War”, Elissa said soberly, looking at the other two wardens urgingly, holding her raised cup high.

“Victory”, Alistair joined in, chanting, with somber eyes. He glanced at Solona, waiting for her to do the same. “Victory”, she repeated and rolled her eyes to Leliana who observed them with a half smile and alert eyes.

“In Peace”, Alistair continued stoically.

“Vigilance”, the other two wardens chorused. 

Solona had now raised her cup as well, and the mirth in her eyes had disappeared as they all now looked at her. “In Death”. 

“Sacrifice”, they said in unison and their glasses clinked in a toast. 

“For our fallen brethren”, Alistair said and the other wardens nodded, approving his tribute.

“And –“, Elissa added, “for us who still lives”.

They drank from their cups before they sat quietly for a while, thinking about Ostagar; honoring the fallen men’s memory.

“We should probably go to sleep”, Alistair croaked after a while to Elissa who nodded in agreement. The mood had dulled, and she did not even want another drink. And, as they were to share a room, Alistair was relieved that they no longer had any disagreements.

Elissa had had a talk with Alistair earlier that day that killing men - such as bandits, sometimes were necessary. Alistair had grimaced, said that he knew that, and even though he didn’t like it, he would never again risk his companions’ lives nor their quest again. Her wounded leg was more than an injury -- it was his mark of shame and a sign of his insufficiency. He had lost all of his warden-brothers, and would rather die himself than see another fall.

The conversation had cleared the air between them, and Solona was glad to see that they seemed to have reconnected.

“I think you two had a bit too much to drink”, Solona had to tell them with a soft voice, and tilted her head as she looked at Elissa. “Morrigan told me that you shouldn’t sleep unattended when you have had poppy juice combined with alcohol, and I think Alistair here is going to pass out soon”. Alistair chuckled and Elissa’s shoulders drooped as she looked at Solona with big, almost puppy-like eyes.

“But... Who would want to share a room with me?”, she said feebly, her lips curled downwards. 

Before Solona had time to offer herself, Leliana chimed in. “I can share a room with you. I will probably not fall asleep, anyway, after the nightmare I had”.

Elissa nodded slowly, and decided not to protest.

“So you’re with me, then”, Alistair smiled to Solona and she couldn’t help but smile back.

 

*

 

Leliana puffed as she helped the hoppling and tipsy Elissa up the stairs. Elissa’s arm was wrapped over her shoulders for support, and Leliana was surprised to feel how strong and heavy she was. She should not have been -- Elissa was, after all, physically fit as a Grey Warden ought to be. Leliana nibbled her lip. The embrace made her feel almost… secure, as if it was her and not the intoxicated Elissa who was assisted up the second floor.

She had not been close to anyone in the last two years, and she relished the sensation of feeling the warden’s warm breath against her cheek and neck. Leliana looked down the stairs and saw Solona trying to get Alistair to take the first step. If Leliana puffed from the endeavor, Solona panted like Frost a warm summer day. Solona chuckled gleefully when she met Leliana’s eyes.

They shared a knowing look; Alistair and Elissa were unbelievably hopeless with alcohol.

When Leliana finally got to the room she and Elissa were going to share, Truce who’d been at Elissa’s side the whole evening, obediently laid down next to the bed. Leliana almost dropped the warrior as she was to help her lay down on the mattress. Leliana let out a light breath. Elissa did not seem to care, or maybe even notice. Leliana walked quietly to her side of the bed, and sat down on its edge. Elissa sighed as Leliana's movement made the mattress bounce, and looked up at the wooden ceiling.

“I have been avoiding you”

Leliana's eyes flitted to Elissa, slightly bewildered, as if she did not know if it was to her Elissa spoke.

“Yes, you have”, Leliana then said softly, with her back facing the warden. “I shouldn't have done what I did to you. I’m sorry”.

Elissa silently observed Leliana, and propped herself up into a half-sitting position, with her back leaning against the headboard. She swallowed, and with a dazed mind, she could not come up with a reason why not to touch Leliana’s back. As her fingers brushed her, Elissa's mind cleared, and finally she remembered who and where she was. She pulled back her hand as if she had touched ember. The swift, unexpected physical contact made Leliana stiffen, and she turned around and looked at her with an inquiring gaze. Elissa felt her face grew warm. Leliana's lips curled into an insecure smile.

“Noo...", Elissa began, her mouth dry, "don’t be. I should have told the others about it sooner, anyway. I must admit, killing Howe is almost the only thing I think about, even though the Blight should be my first priority...”.

Elissa looked down at her own hands.

“He made sure to kill almost everyone I ever loved or cared for. Fergus, my brother, died at Ostagar, unknowingly of Oriana's and Oren's fates. The worst thing is that I think it was for the best.” Her eyes flickered. “To know the fate his wife and son…” Elissa’s voice cracked. “Well. He would have been broken. Then there was another…” She paused and Leliana decided to grab Elissa’s quivering hand, trying to comfort her. “But she left us to die at Ostagar, even after she promised to come and help us - help _me_. I--. I have no one”.

Truce barked worriedly and jumped up on the bed. Elissa sent him a mournful smile. “Sorry, boy. You know I did not forget about you. You are my best friend”. Truce looked at Elissa and Leliana thought she saw the hound nod before he decided to return to rest.

“You are not alone, Elissa. You have Solona and Alistair, and Sten will guard your back, at least until this Blight is over and done with. I know Morrigan cares about you, even though I bet she’d never admit it. And me”. Leliana squeezed her hand. “I shall never put you in a situation like that again”.

“But can I trust you?”

Elissa let her fingers curl around Leliana's hand and pulled her closer. They were almost nose-to-nose, and Leliana felt Elissa's heavy alcohol breath smash against her face.

“I believe I know what you are, Leliana”.

Elissa’s voice didn’t sound overly threatening, but Leliana felt how a lump of fear began to grow in her stomach. Even though she had time to react, she let Elissa roll her around so that she laid on top of her. Leliana closed her eyes. She recognized the sensation of sharp, cold metal against bare skin. Elissa pressed a dagger against Leliana’s throat.

“It was  _awfully_  convenient of you to intervene that day at Dane’s Refuge, and tell Solona about the vision you claim you have had." 

Elissa's eyes smoldered, and Leliana felt her skin simmer beneath her pitiless gaze.

"Was the vision a lie,  _bard_?”

Leliana widened her eyes and tears dimmed her vision; she hated herself for that -- she had promised herself to accept whatever faith she deserved, and she came to hate that Elissa’s features softened at the sight. Elissa pulled away from Leliana, and threw away the dagger.

“But, if you were to kill us, you could have done that days ago. I merely want to know why your here”.

“How --, how did you know?” Leliana whispered through her tears.

Elissa was quiet as she rolled onto her back, returning her gaze to the ceiling before closing her eyes.

“I have been watching you. The way you talk with Solona and Alistair. Asking them questions, but avoiding theirs. And, come on", she said, almost smiling, "a former Orlesian minstrel, now a lay sister in bloody  _Lothering_ , who knows how to shoot with a longbow as you do? It is unbelievable. I have been to Orlais, Leliana. Maker, a teyrn’s daughter not knowing about the Game?” She paused and reopened her eyes, surprised to find that her vision was foggy. “The cheating when we played cards earlier? It was a bard who taught me that, she said it was a common trick in her circles”. A beat, and a mirthless chuckle. "If I now could trust her, will say". 

Leliana pleaded, prepared to kneel, “I swear to you - I didn’t lie about the vision!” Elissa noticed that Leliana’s accent became even more prominent when she was upset. “But... You are right, I was a bard. But not anymore. I… I wish I could erase that part of my life. That is the truth”.

Elissa rolled out of the bed and limped to the small window. Rain pattered against the glass and Elissa opened it, letting in cool air and the smell of petrichor. She felt nauseous, and the sharp air helped only a tad. 

“I choose to believe you”, she then said with a solemn voice, looking out through the window. It was utterly dark outside, but she could hint the shapes of trees. “I... Hah. I actually thought I was going insane. I have barely slept since the night Howe…” Elissa stopped, and a muscle jumped in her cheek. “When I am not dreaming about Highever, I dream about the archdemon. He is watching me, following me. He knows that I am out for him, and in his eyes I see myself die. He will kill me, but I am not sure how.” Another pause. Elissa's chest heaved gruelling with her every breath. “I shan't tell anyone, Leliana, about your past. I just had to know. You have nothing to fear of me. As long as you do not jeopardize our mission, I do not care why you are here”. Elissa glanced fleetingly at her. "I am grateful. You saved me a couple of times back in Lothering".  

Leliana didn’t notice that she had stopped crying until the moment she stood by Elissa at the window. She let her hand caress Elissa's cheek, and pulled back her hand. Elissa _did_ feel like ember.

“You’re burning”, she said with a concerned furrow between her brows.

“It is alright", Elissa shrugged, "there will be healers at the Circle”.

Elissa turned to Leliana and looked at her with feverish eyes. “I love your voice”, Elissa blurted, eyes widening in surprise of what she just had said. “It reminds me of happier times", she then added quickly. "One time Anora and I wanted to travel to Orlais together, but Loghain would not allow it. ‘My daughter will never set a foot in that forsaken country’ he said.” Elissa chortled, but Leliana heard that it was forced. “My parents let me go there with Daryn. Daryn actually _lied_ to Loghain and told him she was going to visit a dying friend. Yes.". Elissa looked absent, stuck in her memories. "We were actually... happy. Orlais… we could be ourselves there”, she said, more to herself than to Leliana.

Leliana listened to her, confused. “Queen Anora?”, she then asked, not caring about hiding her curiosity.

Elissa nodded. “She was not always a queen. Once, she was my best friend.”

“And Daryn?”

Elissa averted her gaze, swallowing. Her voice had hardened, "No. It is too early. I can not speak of her with you. It... hurts too much”.

Leliana watched Elissa in silence. The furrow beneath her brows deepened as she saw that sweat beads had formed on Elissa’s forehead. The room was chilly and humid, and Leliana's bare arms were covered in goosebumps.

“Come back to bed now, Elissa”, Leliana almost begged and pulled in Elissa’s tunic. “You need to sleep”.

Elissa looked at her, challenging. “Only if you tell me about your nightmare”.

Leliana saw the defiant tilt to Elissa's chin, and agreed so that they could go to bed. She helped Elissa get undressed – her body temperature was way too high for her to wear any clothes but underwear. Elissa hesitated, as she sat in front of Leliana. Her hands trembled as they loosely grasped the heft of Leliana's tunic.

"May I?", she wondered, and Leliana nodded. Elissa was careful not to cross any boundary, and winced as her fingers happened to touch the soft skin of Leliana's waist.

“I just need to be near another person”, Elissa said under her breath, as Leliana let Elissa tug her tunic over her head.

Leliana could only nod yet again as she silently appreciated feeling another woman’s fingers dance alongside her body. When they both lay on their sides in the bed, watching each other through the dark, Leliana decided to tell her as much she could.

“My nightmare was nothing more than being forced to relive my own past. I once was in love with someone who didn’t love me back. I... I honestly doubt she is capable of such feelings. She was my lover and mentor; a talented bard, and she taught me all she knew. I was her clay, and she shaped me to a vase, only to crack me. You see, Elissa, she betrayed me and my two friends. We were captured for a crime we did not commit, and one of my friends – Tug, died during our time stuck in the dungeon. We were tortured, and I do not know for how long we were down there. Weeks, maybe months? I have no clue. I was stuck in a place without time. Even though I and my other friend, Sketch, in real life escaped the dungeon with the help of a Revered Mother, that did not happen in my nightmare. I dreamt that I died and that the woman I once loved, killed me over and over again”.

"I am sorry all that happened to you”, Elissa whispered. They had only known each other for a short while, and yet they both felt it was time to tell the other as much they could about themselves.  _Almost_ everything, at least. Both women had avoided a lot of details, and they were wise enough not to push each other.

“Can you imagine that I trusted a bard?”, Leliana tried to chuckle but it turned into a sob instead. “I let her use me, as I used others. Oh, Elissa. I’d rather die than to be that person again. The Maker saved me. I was... evil”.

“You was in love”, Elissa gave her a pale smile and wiped away her tears with her thumb. “It shows that you always were a good person, Leliana. One who loves can always be saved. You deserved better. She should not have done that to you”.

“I can’t believe I told you this”. Leliana’s blue eyes gazed into Elissa’s. “My darkest secrets”.

“I did not give you a choice, did I?”

“Oh, maybe not, but I could have lied. It felt… wrong, when you’ve told me yours. Now I can only hope you won’t use them against me”.

“I won’t”. Elissa’s voice was hoarse and earnest.

Leliana trembled as she carefully scuffled closer Elissa. She could see that Elissa's bottom lip wobbled, in either nervousness or anticipation. Maybe both.

Elissa's glazed eyes shimmered, and when Elissa did not move when Leliana closed the distance between then, she sought Elissa’s fever warm, cracked lips with her own. It wasn’t a kiss of passion; it was a kiss of comfort, with a hint of desperation. Two lost souls seeking refuge in one another, a way to be torn apart together. Elissa pulled away first when Leliana cupped her heated cheeks, wanting more.

“No, Leliana", she said huskily. Even though it throbbed between her thighs, she would not let Leliana enter dangerous territory unknowingly. "I will probably regret everything I told you tonight. And you will probably feel the same, once the sun rises. We fool ourselves. None of us are to be trusted”.

“What happens during the night stays there. Only the moon knows what we have done", Leliana said weakly. "We never have to speak about it again. I  _need_  you”. Leliana drew Elissa closer. “I have been alone for so long”, she whispered in her ear. Her soft breath tickled her earlobes, and Elissa gave in to her primal needs.

She grabbed Leliana’s hair as their kisses grew more desperate.

“I promise you nothing”, Elissa moaned softly, as her lower abdomen began to throb more intensely.

“It is nothing I want”, she responded in a breath and helped Elissa roll of her briefs. Elissa kissed Leliana’s body and wanted to crawl under her pale, freckled skin. She was soft and slender, and Leliana moaned when Elissa let her healthy thigh separate her legs.

Leliana began to let her hips move in a slow rotation against Elissa's thigh, enjoying the weight on top of her – it was a long time ago since she was seen and heard.

Elissa read her every move and her every sound that left her lips like a map; she used them as coordinates to orientate in the new world that unfolded beneath her.

Soon Elissa wrote poems with her tongue on the bard’s stomach, and she buried her secrets on the small freckles beneath her breasts. On the scar next to Leliana’s navel, she forgot herself. Leliana gasped when Elissa started to kiss the warmth between her thighs, and Leliana placed her legs in a diamond shape over Elissa’s shoulders.

Elissa’s tongue explored the bard’s every corner as if trying to find out what more she had hidden, and soon she drank her ache and pain, unburdened her; she let Leliana know that she for at least this night no longer was alone, that life was more than agony. She didn’t stop until Leliana’s knees shook and Leliana gently pulled her in her hair to lift her from the warmth.

“Thank you”, Leliana said and kissed Elissa’s no longer dry lips.

Then they both fell asleep, entangled in each other. Afraid of the dawn.


	11. Chapter 11

Solona woke up with an unfamiliar weight around her waist. A sleepy glance through equally as heavy lids revealed that Alistair had wrapped an arm around her. His quiet snores tickled her neck, and while she was unsure on why, she smiled to herself.

The morning sun shone into the room, and as she yawned, she watched a small cloud of dust particles dance around in the air. She frowned. The drinks from last minds reminded her by threatening to explode her bladder. Eager to keep on living in one piece, she gently lifted away his arm. He did not notice - she knew since earlier that he slept like a bear in the deepest of winters as long he did not have his typical Grey Warden-nightmares. With that information in mind, together with the fact that her bladder felt as if it was on a murder spree, she decided that she dared to use the chamber pot. Happy over the fact that he did not wake up when the pee hit the porcelain, she later rummaged her pack for some mint leaves, not even trying to be especially quiet. Solona chewed them while washing her face and armpits with water from the small container the innkeeper put in the room the day earlier.

Frost lay on the floor in the shape of a doughnut, and Solona mildly shook her. It was hard not to feel like the most awful person to have ever existed when she disturbed the pup’s sleep. “We need to go out, my love”, she said to her quietly. Frost looked at her with her brown, kind eyes -- albeit not overly alert -- and followed her mistress out. The grass was wet and slippery from the night’s downfall, and Solona appreciated that Frost did her needs without further ado. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Sten who grunted a greeting when he passed them, heading to the inn.

When they reentered the tavern, Morrigan already sat at one of the tables eating, and Sten sat beside her waiting for his breakfast.

“Good morning", Solona said to Morrigan as she seated herself. "Have you slept well?"

“I slept”, she answered blandly with shrugging shoulders while staring down at her plate. Solona was not surprised, even though she thought it did not harm trying to at least maintain basic courtesy. At least Morrigan had given her a reply. It was not something that was taken for granted.

So, Solona left it there and ordered some breakfast for herself. The odd trio ate in silence, and Solona was contented when Leliana joined them, tightly followed by a pale, almost green-skinned Alistair.

“I need some fresh air”, he spluttered, trying to smile. The smile disappeared as soon he set his eyes on their plates, and he let a gagging sound escape his throat.

Morrigan tipped her lips with her index finger, finally looking up from the view that was her soon-to-be empty plate. She thought of something dry to say to Alistair, but unfortunately, she had almost no time to react before he left the inn. She chose not to glare after her lost opportunity -- if she was honest with herself, she felt no need. She had taken a bath the day before and slept in an unexpectedly nice bed. Even the food served was decent. She would be a fool if she were not to enjoy it.

“ _Bonjour_ ”, Leliana said to them. Solona welcomed her with a big smile; finally someone she could have a normal conversation with.

“Good morning. How is Elissa?”, Solona immediately wondered. Morrigan raised her head and let her yellow irises show that she listened to them. Intensely. 

“Her fever is increasing, if somewhat fluctuating”, Leliana answered. “We are not far from the Circle, _oui_? I fear we need to get there as soon as we can”.

“And the combination of poppy and alcohol?” Morrigan asked, her voice even. It was hard for Leliana to hold on to the belief that Morrigan cared for Elissa when she said it like that.

“She slept like a rock”. Leliana’s cheeks and neck reddened.

Morrigan snorted. “So it takes a fatal combination to make her sleep”.

Solona hadn’t really noticed that Elissa had problem sleeping lately. It was obvious when they were in the Wilds, but she must have been better at hiding it since.

"Are you saying that she still has a problem sleeping?”.

Morrigan nodded curtly. “She told me that the last night she slept through was in Lothering”.

“Oh – Solona, that must have been when she had a dally with your charming _lady_ cousin”. Alistair joined them wearing a big smile, looking much healthier. The fresh air had done him good. Solona chuckled at his stupid comment, and failed to notice that Leliana had averted her eyes. 

“At least she has been with a woman”, Morrigan deadpanned. Alistair blushed and got saved from further comments by a woman serving him and Leliana breakfast.

“I hope they are on their way to Kirkwall now”. Solona got a somber look in her eyes as she thought of her newfound family, and Alistair gave her a quick gaze filled with compassion.

“I bet they are”, he said to her. 

They continued to eat in silence, and after a while, they heard limping steps slowly descending the stairs. “Go out, boy”, Elissa told Truce and opened the door for him.

Frost looked up at Solona, asking for permission to follow the other hound. “You may go”, she said, and Frost barked and hurried after Truce.

Elissa had already packed her things, and she looked at her companions. “We should return to the roads as soon as we can. I will be outside, waiting”.

“Shouldn’t you eat something?”, Solona asked her with a worried wrinkle between her brows.

“No, I am fine. I am afraid that the unappetizing root Morrigan forces me to chew would ruin even a royal dining”. Her lips turned upwards into a pale smile, and she fingered on her pipe, almost hesitating before she stepped out the door.

Truce and Frost barked happily when Elissa joined them. Sten was not late to follow the warden – he had already packed his belongings. With that, the rest of them hurried to finish their plates and pack their things.

 

*

 

Solona noticed that something had changed. Elissa and Leliana still didn’t speak, but at the same time, they didn’t avoid each other. It was clear that Alistair had noticed it too, even though he neither could put a word on it. Morrigan, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes, analyzing the situations when the two women interacted with one another.

Leliana had found a better stick for Elissa to use as a cane, and Elissa had accepted it without uttering so much as a word.

Morrigan had curled her lips in disgust earlier when she had to change Elissa's bandage, exasperated that it was her's and not Solona's task. The wound smelled of death and sickness, and the two mages weren’t sure how long Elissa had until delirium would get a hold of her. Because they could agree on one thing, and it was that delirium surely was unavoidable in that stage. 

When the day aged and the sun began to descend, they sat up a camp. Alistair and Solona offered to take one of the nightshifts, and Sten and Morrigan decided to take the next coming shift. Was it not nice when everything just... worked?

“I want to be out by the fire”, Elissa panted when Alistair was about to set up her tent. Solona and Morrigan looked at each other and pondered her wish. “Okey”, they agreed in unison, and let out her bedroll next to the log Sten had dragged there. They figured, that the cool air maybe could help her fever down.  

Morrigan handed Elissa another root to chew, together with a dose of poppy juice, before she went to her tent that was placed on a distance from the others. Sten, who hadn’t uttered more than a word the whole day, also went to sleep. Therefore it was only Leliana who kept the three wardens' company, and they spoke quietly while Elissa drifted in and out of sleep.

“We should arrive at the Circle tomorrow”, Alistair said quietly, so that the words would not drift to Elissa's ears.

“I fear for her. Healing can mend wounds and broken bones, but infections and blood poisoning... Magic can not defeat sickness. Only some of the symptoms”. Solona rose up and crouched next to Elissa. When she put her hand against the other warden’s forehead, Elissa's eyes jolted wide open. Solona almost jumped at that.

“Iona?” she whispered with a dry throat and reached for Solona’s blonde hair. “Is it really you?”.

Solona gave Leliana and Alistair a puzzled look. “Have you heard the name before?”, she mouthed. Both of them shook their heads, and they went closer to Elissa.

“Is there anything I can do?” Alistair asked and Solona shook her head as she grabbed Elissa’s hand.

“No, dear. I’m Solona, remember?”. Her voice was soft and she let her other hand caress Elissa’s burning cheek.

“I thought you died”, Elissa continued, voice cracked. The pain was evident in her eyes. “Amethyne will be so glad to see that you are well”.

Solona bit the tip of her tongue. She knew that the delirium would show up sooner or later, but she had hoped for later. “Leliana, can you get me a damp cloth?”. Leliana nodded with wide eyes and disappeared. Her return was swift, and she brought what Solona had asked for.

“Alistair", Solona said while pressing the cloth against Elissa's brow, "I think I need you to get Morrigan for me”.

He jogged to the far-away-tent and Morrigan soon joined them, her hair tousled from sleep. “I do not know what to do”, she said after inspecting Elissa. “We can only hope she survives the night…”. Morrigan paused and bit her lip, thinking. “We could cut off her leg. It could kill her, but also give her time before we arrive at Kinloch Hold”.

“No!” Leliana shouted, appalled at the suggestion. “We cannot do such a thing”.  

“No?". Morrigan actually began to sound a bit stressed. "I can…” She pinched the bridge of her nose, pondered the alternatives. “Yes, yes. I can put a sleeping spell on her so that her body can concentrate on dealing with the infection. But, in doing so, we won’t know the state of her condition.”. Her reptilian eyes sought Solona’s for confirmation. Elissa was now weeping and mumbling different names. Truce growled at them –- a half-hearted try to protect his mistress.

“Do it”, Solona said sternly after a moment of reflection. What other options did they have, anyway? “Sten will have to carry her the last distance”. Sten did not look like he minded, Solona thought as she peered at him after she said it. But then again -- his indifferent expression rarely exposed his inner thoughts.

Morrigan started to mumble a spell and put the top of her fingers -- with a surprising gentleness -- against Elissa’s temples. Elissa's murmurs soon silenced. Morrigan sighed and watched as she took deep, rattling breaths before she simply returned to her tent.

Alistair went back to the log and hid his face in his hands, while Leliana went to get her bedroll and laid it next to Elissa’s.

“I can take over from now”, Leliana mumbled and let her hand replace Solona’s. She laid down next to Elissa and bathed her face and neck with the cloth.

Solona fell down beside Alistair who took her hand, looking into the fire. She was exhausted, and knew that this was only the beginning.

It was going to be a long night, and an even longer day.


	12. Chapter 12

"Don't do anything stupid", Solona said under her breath to Morrigan as they stepped out of the rocking skiff. "If they found out that you are an apostate --"

"Yes, yes", Morrigan answered blandly, almost as if the mere thought bored her. "I will be obedient". 

Solona smothered a sigh. The Templars were experts in sensing people's connection to the Fade. So long they had not yet entered the Tower, which meant that Morrigan was unsafe. Solona made sure to keep close to her -- maybe the Templars would assume that the proof of magic oozed from her, and not Morrigan.

She only hoped that if the templars did sense Morrigan's powers, they could use their positions as Grey Wardens to help her. She doubted it, though. Her brows drew together as she thought about it. Not because it almost felt uncanny to be concerned about Morrigan's well-being, but rather because The Templar Order was not famous for their ability to cooperate. Which, after a moment of reflection, actually did correlate with each other. Well. She glanced at Morrigan. The woman in rags was maybe not the most pleasant person in Thedas, but she was a free soul, grown up in the Wilds. Solona guessed that she would not do well in captivity. Maybe it would even break her.

 

It was a familiar voice that welcomed them, and despite their history, Solona could not help but smile at the man that guarded not only her former home, but her. 

“Solona! I’m glad to see you’re alive”, Knight-Commander Greagoir greeted earnestly when they arrived outside the Circle Tower. He recognized Alistair and gave him a swift nod. “I thought all of you fell at Ostagar”.

“We almost did, Knight-Commander”, Alistair muttered, dismal by the reminder. Greagoir did not seem to hear him, as his eyes glued to Elissa and the qunari that carried her. 

“I have a friend here who needs to be attended to by a healer. As soon as possible”, Solona told the Knight-Commander. Sten gently put her down on the ground, with Greagoir warily watching.

"Well, that will be troublesome”, he answered, voice strained. “The doors are barred, and the tower is... no longer under control. Abominations and demons stalk the tower’s halls.” The older man let out a heavy breath. He was exasperated. “We... We were too complacent. First Jowan, now this”. The Knight-Commander locked his eyes with Solona’s. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten your role in Jowan’s escape.”

Solona frowned at the reminder, but quickly let her sour facial expression transcend into a puzzled one. The doors were barred? She looked around the yard. She saw nothing but men clad in templar armor. “But… What about the First Enchanter?", she asked, throat constricted. "And Wynne?” A beat. She already knew the answer. “Is she here?”

“Senior Enchanter Wynne survived Ostagar, if that is what you are wondering”. Greagoir rubbed his neck. “I told my men to flee when I realized we had no chance in there.” He nodded towards the barred doors. “They are still in there. I had no choice. I’m currently waiting for reinforcements from Denerim, and the authority to initiate the Right of Annulment. Grand Cleric Elemena should have received my message by now”.

Solona blanched at the news, and a shiver went down her spine. If the Right was invoked…

“The mages are probably already dead, Solona”, Alistair said to her softly, knowing exactly what the Right of Annulment meant. The death of _all_ \-- children, apprentices, harrowed mages and tranquils. Even the templars that had not gotten out in time. “And the abominations need to be dealt with no matter what”.

“I refuse to believe that”. Solona gave Alistair a glance, eyes fiery. In his mind, he still was a bloody templar, no matter the darkspawn ichor in his pulsating heart. “Let us try to save those we can. They are my... family. Despite all”.

Alistair stiffened at that, and looked guilty. His eyes were downcast; after all, his biggest wish was to get the family he never had. He knew right away that he could not take that away from her. He could not, and he would not. 

Greagoir looked at her, pondering what she just said. “I...". He sighed. He did not want to see more death than necessary. Solona assumed that was what differed him from most templars. "What harm can it do?", he said, voice heavy with responsibility and something that resembled remorse. "Yes, I will let you in if it is your wish. But, if you fail, I will invoke the Right when it arrives. You need to get Irving to tell me you have succeeded before then, or I will have the tower…" he cleared his throat, "neutralized. You should take her with you”, he pointed at Elissa. “There is none to help her out here. Not in the state she is in”.

Solona got a stern look on her face, and her eyes locked on the barred doors. “Then we got no time to spare", she said, determined but a tad afraid. She hoped her voice did not betray her. "Open the doors”.

Morrigan groaned internally. She couldn’t believe she willingly entered the phallus called the Circle Tower, and for the first time since she left the Wilds, she was glad to be in company with – and protected by, the damned Grey Wardens. 

 

*

 

They had saved the Circle Tower, but most of them felt as if they lost a part of themselves. To have been in the Fade, and to have been  _tricked_  by the Fade, could make one’s mind confused.

Leliana sat by Elissa’s side, holding her hand. Wynne, who had decided to join their cause, had healed her as much as she could. The older mage had even appraised Morrigan, telling her that the witch’s knowledge in herbalism was the sole reason Elissa still was alive. Leliana assumed a thanks was in order, but she was not sure how Morrigan would react to gratitude.

It could wait.

Morrigan had released Elissa from her sleeping spell after that Uldred, a corrupted mage responsible for bringing chaos to Kinloch, had been dealt with. Wynne had then reported that it could take a while before she woke up. Leliana sighed heavily. How long was 'a while'?. It felt like ages. And, in times like these, Leliana could not do more than pray to the Maker, pleading him to save her. And she was doing just that when Elissa startled her by opening her mouth,

“So, have the Maker answered your prayers, sister?” she had croaked with a wan and weary smile.

“Elissa!", Leliana had burst, her both hands clenching to her chest. "You’re awake”. The initial fright soon gave room for relief, "You gave us a scare, you know”.

Elissa tried to raise her free, shaking hand, aiming to caress Leliana's cheek, but faltered. She was too weak -- too weak to even feel humiliated at that. “Could... Could I possibly get some water?”. It felt as if the words ripped her parched throat apart with razor-sharp claws as she spoke. She grimaced.

Leliana, suddenly alert, immediately poured up a glass of water and handed it to her. “ _Oui, bien sûr_.", she said, almost blathering. "Oh, I should tell the other’s you’re awake! Maker, you’ve missed a lot”. Leliana's lips curled into a half-smile. Elissa would probably not be sorry for what she had missed -- it had not been particularly... fun. 

“No, wait, please”, Elissa squeezed Leliana’s hand that had found its way back to hers. “Maybe it is too much to ask... but I want to be alone with you first”. Elissa bit her lip. "Could you tell me what has happened? Where I am?". If she had not woken up to Leliana's familiar and welcoming face, she would probably have panicked. She did not recognize her environments, and the air smelled displeasantly of sulfur. She hauled herself into a half-sitting posture, and her contorted face seemed to have etched itself in her features. She could do nothing but hope her face would return to normal once the pain let go. She then looked into Leliana’s big, blue eyes. Leliana chuckled with slightly blushing cheeks. The cold water felt divine against the walls of her worn throat, and she gulped the glass empty in seconds. A trickle of water flowed down her neck. She should have been embarrassed at that -- she was no child, but in this state, she gladly admitted that she did not care. When Elissa put away the emptied glass on the nightstand, Leliana sunk down at the bedside, carefully letting her fingers trickle along the visible veins on Elissa’s arm.  

“We are at the Circle”, Leliana began explaining, her visage austere. “It was quite an ordeal to get you help, Elissa”. Leliana moved her hand from Elissa’s arm to her jaw, stroking her cheek with her thumb. Elissa unconsciously leaned in towards the touch. “The tower was infiltrated by abominations and demons. With the help of a mage called Wynne – the one who helped to heal you, we succeeded in clearing the building. She is to join us, by the way”. Elissa raised her brows at that but said nothing; instead, she only tilted her head as she listened. “We were stuck in the Fade. I… I was tricked by the demons there. I’m afraid Solona now suspects what we did at the inn that night”. Leliana blushed fiercely. “The demon posed in your image, and I fell for it. If Solona hadn’t saved me…” Leliana couldn’t finish her sentence, and shivered at the thought of her body withering while her soul was stuck in that awful place. “Anyway”, she continued, slightly pale. “We now have the mages' help against the Blight. Solona and Alistair told them about the treaties. It’s always something”.

Elissa nodded thoughtfully. “It is something”, she echoed and then closed her eyes. Her body was completely and fully drained of energy; her muscles weak. “I think I need to sleep some more before I can get up on my feet, and be useful again. I am glad you are here... bard”. She gave her a wink and Leliana’s chest felt warmer, knowing she had nothing to fear from Elissa. “I hope you will tell me more, later”.

Leliana hesitated before she spoke, “Elissa… Can I stay?”. Leliana wasn’t sure of the reason she wanted to remain at her side; if it was to comfort Elissa... or herself. Elissa looked at her with wondering eyes, before she nodded and scooted, leaving room for Leliana to lie down beside her. Leliana crawled down under the clammy sheets and closed her eyes as she leaned her head on the other woman’s chest. Elissa's heart beat fast, but regularly. It was surprisingly calming. 

When Wynne later was to check on her patient, she stopped at the door and smiled. The two youngsters snored, entangled in each other. After a quick but thorough check, she decided that Elissa no longer was in danger.

“Your warden is fine”, she told the rest of the ragtag band as she returned to them. Their tense shoulders relaxed at the news. “Or", she continued, "at least, she will be. Given time”.

 

*

 

“When we go to Denerim, I would like if you could come with me to meet my sister. For real, this time”, Alistair said shyly, abashed that he was tricked by the demons in the Fade. “But only if you want to, of course”, he added quickly, face flustered.

Solona smiled kindly at him. “I would love to meet her, Alistair”. The smile faded as she continued, “I can’t wait until we leave this place. I’d rather sleep in a cold tent than another night here”.

The sound of children's laughter echoed from another hall, and Solona shook her head. She overheard three Enchanters' -- Petra, Kinnon, and Surana -- voices as they gently lectured them. The Circle had, obviously, no time to recover from what just happened. They had to regain the order, so that this would not repeat. It was unfathomable, that Greagoir had been prepared to slaughter all the children, instead of taking up arms and protect them. She now heard the three Enchanter's laugh join in with the magelets, and her heart grew warmer. 

Then Solona remembered Lily and her heart seized to beat. Lily, who always had adored children, and hoped to become a tutor for magelets once she passed her Harrowing. She had even prepared the subject of her thesis. Solona did not remember all the details, but it had been something about youngsters, magic, and education. 

Wynne had told Solona about Lily’s fate, and the mere thought of it made her nauseous. The Knight-Commander had wanted Lily to either be made tranquil or sent to the Aeonar as punishment for trying to escape. Irving and Wynne knew that death was more pleasant than either a life without emotions or imprisoned in a mage asylum. This led to that they persuaded Greagoir to let Lily go through the Harrowing, so that she could get a fair chance, even though she wasn’t ready. Hope was, after all, the torch in the darkest of nights.

Lily’s life was with that decision ended. When a demon won over her mind, the templars had to do… what they had to do.

 

“Solona… eh, can we talk?” Cullen had entered the room and his voice awoke her from her contemplation. Pain etched into his pale features. 

It was hard for Alistair not to glare at the templar - for many years ago, when they both were young templar recruits in the Chantry, they had known each other. They had never really been friends; Alistair had not cared much for the Templar Order, whereas Cullen dreamt of being a templar since he was very young.

When the group together with Wynne were clearing the tower from abominations, they had found Cullen trapped and tortured in a magic cage. He had begged Solona to kill the other mages - or even let the Right of Annulment be invoked - after spitting his hatred over them and over Solona herself. Cullen had doubted Solona’s mind and ability, telling her how wrong it was for him to love her.

Love, Alistair thought darkly. How could Cullen even claim to love Solona after all he had called her?

Alistair's stomach squirmed; he knew that he wasn’t much better himself. Before they entered the Tower, he hadn’t immediately opposed the Right of Annulment. It was with a stomach boiling with guilt he swore to never make a mistake like that again.

Sorcerers were people as well, and they deserved to be treated as such.

Alistair perked his head as Solona calmly -- _kindly_ (!) -- answered Cullen with a “Yes, of course”. She rose up, and Alistair was surprised to see that Solona held no signs of anger towards the man. “I’ll be back soon, Alistair”. She gave him a wan smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

 

She joined Cullen and they went to a nook for some privacy. Solona looked around the dimmed alcove. They had been in there before. There were, after all, not too many places in the Tower where one could get just privacy. Cullen’s eyes flickered as he nervously fiddled with the edge of his breastplate.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you, Solona. I know you never would be a maleficar or, uh,  _bad_  in any way. It was just that… I saw some horrible things - hallucinations, while I was trapped there.” He paused and swallowed. In his head, his excuse had not sounded as pathetic as it did out loud. His hands trembled, his fingers numbed. They stilled somewhat when Solona grasped them, hoping her contact would soothe him.  

“And I’m sorry for… Huh. I already said that, didn’t I?.” He stuttered and Solona felt her heart melt. He had been tortured and held a prisoner, yet he was strong enough to stand and try to ask for forgiveness.

“I understand, my love.” Solona sent him a pale smile and his tremor subsided further. “I know how it feels, when your mind is tricked”. She carefully leaned into his arms, felt the cold chest plate press against her cheek. She let her mind drift back to her Harrowing, how Mouse had fooled her, and how she just earlier in the Fade almost had been fooled... yet again.

Cullen gently pushed her away and reached for his lyrium vial. Shakily, he uncorked it and emptied it in one swig. He gasped and took a step back as he felt the liquid explode in his mind, filling his entire being with the most pleasant of songs; it was an understatement to say it calmed his nerves.

“... Thank you”, he said after a few moments of savoring the sensation. His voice, however, was still hoarse and thick with emotion. How was he to tell her that a desire demon had posed in her image, trying to trick him? How was he to tell her that the very same desire demon - still in Solona's image - had done the most brutal things to him, deeds he would never be able to speak of? He bit his inner lip. Would he ever be able to forget what happened? Would he ever be able to look at Solona, and not see his deepest fears? 

Her soft eyes regarded him, filled to the brim with concern for his well-being, and Cullen could at least answer the latter question. 

“I can't imagine that you’re a Grey Warden now”, he said instead and began to stroke her upper arms, eager to change the subject. “I wish… and I hope, that once this Blight is over, you’ll come back to me.” A beat. “But I also understand if you don’t.”, he quickly added, his words almost tripping on each other. He did not wish to put any pressure on her. Not after all he had done and said. “I have never hidden what I think about mages. But you aren’t like the rest. That… I know.” 

Solona squeezed her eyes shut. A templar and a mage – the latter now free from the Circle.  _Do we have a future, or are we foolish?_

“I can’t promise you what the future will bring us”, she finally said. Their fingers entwined in a desperate act to find solace, and she focused her gaze on his untamed blond curls. “But I know that if I can, I will try to come back to you. All of the years we had here, together… It can’t just end, can it?”

“I know that I don’t  _want_  it to end.  _Us_ , to end”, he said, almost feebly.

Solona hung her head. “We’ll… We’ll see what happens, Cullen. We might not even survive”.

He placed a finger under her chin, and tenderly tilted her head upwards. Then he leaned down, slowly to see if Solona pulled away. She did not, and with that, he let their lips meet like so many times before.

No more words were needed.

They were starving and craving - and yet so scared of each other. Solona tasted the sweet taste of lyrium she had come to associate with his lips, and a shiver went down her spine. Cullen felt Solona's pulsating connection to the Fade sing to him, and his grip around her hardened.

There was nothing they could do about it but accept that they were slaves to their emotions. Their kisses were a power game; templar against mage. Who would win?

Her hair was loose and he loved the smell of her. Cullen pulled down Solona’s trousers and underwear, and Solona undid his lower armour – her fingers remembered every buckle as if they never have done anything else. The lyrium and arousal threatened to explode his head, and Solona eyes glowed. The drips of lyrium she had licked from his lips streamed inside her.

They were draped in the shadows, their entire existence filled with their rapid breaths and the song of the Fade. 

He entered her, puffing, and they became one. The cold, jarring stone wall scraped against her bare skin, yet it was the only thing that made them stable. They were water and fire, not able to exist neither with nor without the other. She moaned and he kept on, thrusting his hips against her. He slowed himself and pushed her thigh up higher. He was almost there, and so was she. Yes; he was fire and now he exploded in her, and she was water, and she crooked her toes when she erupted. They breathed into each others’ mouths and they stood like that; lost in that short moment, for what felt like an eternity.

But even eternities had to end.

Cullen pulled out of her, wiping sweat away from his brow. Solona quickly donned her clothes, face flustered. She then smoothened her pants, and Cullen stepped aside, reaching out a hand to her. She let her fingers brush his palm, but said nothing. What was there to say, anyway? Solona let go of him and pushed past him, hurrying back to Alistair.

Cullen knew right away that he would return to this very moment in both his dreams and nightmares, because even if Solona was no desire demon, she was his deepest desire. For good or worse. 

He buried his face in his hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * For you who haven't played the games: In the Fade, demons lured Alistair into believing he is with his sister and nieces/nephews, which he had never met.
> 
> I won't go deeper into the events that transpired here, but if you want to read further about the (awfully repetitious) quest, its name is "Broken Circle".


	13. Chapter 13

They were back on the road. The road that was to lead them to Redcliffe, and more importantly, Arl Eamon.

As the twilight approached, the party decided it was about time to set up a camp. Their camp site -- a hill with a view over Lake Calenhad. Much better than in the dark, claustrophobic forest. At least, that was Elissa thought. It was nice with a change after being in the Tower. She had come to understand why Solona had longed to be free from that place. 

Elissa looked out over placid waters of the grey lake, puffing on her pipe. She grimaced as she shifted her weight -- even if she was feeling much better by now, she still walked with a slight limp and yet had to regain some muscle strength. Fumes of smoke traveled languidly in the air until they dissolved against the gloomy sky. It wasn’t far to the shoreline, and the cold water would immediately numb her body if she went in. Three minutes underwater were all it would take for her to be by her family’s side. Three minutes… Elissa bit her lip and turned back her head, looking at Truce who barked happily while playing with Frost. Truce met her gaze and abruptly stopped, tilting his head as if he knew what she thought about.

No, no, no. She couldn’t leave him. Sten would probably take care of the hound, but Elissa knew that Truce rather crossed the Veil and joined by the Maker (or the Fade, for that matter) rather than lived without her.

Elissa enjoyed the haze and serenity the elfroot usually wrapped her into, but this time, the pleasant high didn’t occur. Instead, it left her restless and anxious. Her stomach writhed. Whenever she felt like this as a child, Nan always was there comforting her with stories and lullabies. Now Nan was dead. Elissa angrily wiped away the tears that escaped her. If she wasn’t able to save the ones she loved the most, how was she supposed to save her country and all of its inhabitants?  
It was _Fergus_ who’d been the good one; he was the one that made sure to carry the Cousland legacy forward, making sure to always see to the elves’ interests in Highever’s alienage. _Fergus_ made sure the peasants and townsfolk never had to miss anything. Yet, he and his own family were gone from this world while she…

For Maker’s sake! Elissa dug her heel into the muddy ground. Even Solona and Alistair were better than she was. Making sure the beggars back at Lothering got coin while she was blind - oblivious, to their misery, so privileged and used to not even notice them - less acknowledge them.

Elissa emptied her pipe and cast the lake a last glance. She didn’t deserve an easy way out. No - she might not be able to save Ferelden from the Blight, but she would at least try. For the first time in her life, she would really _try_. She would die soon enough anyway.

That was what both her dreams and nightmares told her.

 

*

 

Morrigan had in the Circle Tower’s library found a grimoire. When she told Elissa about it, Elissa was sure it was the first time she had seen something resemble excitement glimmer in her catlike eyes.  The grimoire had, apparently, once belonged to Flemeth. And the grimoire was what Morrigan had buried her nose into when Elissa went over to her aside camp.

“Hey, I, uh, I wanted to thank you”, Elissa said coolly and Morrigan looked up from the book. Her even expression adopted a subtle confusion.

“What for?”

Elissa smiled faintly at that, and hunkered down on the ground that was covered in crispy leaves. Morrigan was without doubt very clever, but to grow up in the middle of nowhere with Flemeth as a mother and only company had not made her socially talented.

“For doing your best to save my life… and, of course, for not cutting my leg off. Leliana told me you were quite eager to make me one-legged”.

Morrigan wrinkled her nose and looked down at the book again. “Oh, that”.

Elissa chuckled. “Yes,  _that_ ”. Silence. She cleared her throat. “Is the book what you wanted?”

“No”. She looked up to Elissa again, her gaze distant. It was unusual to see her like this, and Elissa knitted her brows at the sight, trying to figure out why. “’Tis not. I thought ‘twas a tome of spells, but ‘tis about Flemeth. I will tell you more another time; I yet have to finish it”.

“Alright, my friend. I will let you be". Elissa pointedly looked at the larger campfire, where Wynne sat and nurtured a pot. "Wynne is about to cook some food”, she said, stating the obvious. She rose up from the crouching position with a small grunt. She really had to regain her strength -- her thighs already shook from exhaustion. “You may join us, you know. I am sure it will be better than Alistair’s”. Elissa smothered a laugh; the face Morrigan got when she heard Elissa call her a friend was something else, but mixed together with contortion Morrigan got from the flashback to Alistair’s latest stew, made it even more hilarious.  

“I will contemplate it, warden”. A pause -- Elissa was contented with the answer. “Even a  _dog_  cooks better than he does”, Morrigan continued muttering and showed with all her body that the conversation now was ended.

Elissa nodded and shrugged, and decided to return to the others. The dry leaves crushed under her feet.

Solona helped Wynne prepare some herbs she had picked earlier that day. Alistair sat looking out over the lake, his chin propped onto his knuckles. Elissa fell down next to Leliana, trying not to sit too close... or too far away. The perfect distance. Solona arched a brow when she looked up from the herbs and saw the two beside each other. Leliana noticed the look as well, and blushed in response. 

 _I wonder what happened in the Fade,_ Elissa thought, fingers steepled. 

Solona opened her mouth, and Elissa swore to the Maker himself, that if she revealed what they had done, Solona would strut around on His heavenly meadows in a matter of minutes. She was surprised when Solona instead said, “I’m glad they have each other”, looking at the hounds that played. Leliana laughed lightly when Frost tripped on herself. She did not seem to mind -- Frost was up in no time, and continued running as if it never happened.

“I was twelve when father came home with him”, Elissa remembered, with her eyes resting on Truce. She fiddled with her amulet, the Warden’s Oath, which hung around her neck. “Hah. I was so spoiled. My poor mother went mad, because he could never say no to me”.

"Why", Solona drawled sarcastically, "am I not surprised?"

 

When the group had eaten, with a silent Morrigan by Elissa’s side, Elissa asked to speak with Solona and Alistair in private. The three Grey Wardens walked away from the camp into the now half-dark forest, away from their companions.

“I have something I have been meaning to tell you”, she began, hesitating. Her hands fidgeted.

“What is it?” Solona wondered, her eyes wide. Alistair's eyes darted between the two women as he listened, with knitted brows and arms crossed.

“I just… I wanted to say that I am grateful, for being here with you. I know that I am not always easy”, she gave them a tight-lipped smile, “and I am not very good at the whole… save-the-world-thing.”

Alistair clucked at that, and his brown eyes sparkled.

“Who is, comrade? I may be an expert in haggling --", Solona sighed heavily, "but at this? No! I can’t believe that we - a scandalized noblewoman, a mage that just left the Circle Tower after being trapped there her whole life and I – a nobody, are supposed to take down an archdemon that took an army of wardens’ centuries.”

Solona smacked him on his pauldron and grimaced as she realized that it hurt her more than him. “Don't you dare say that. You’re not a nobody, Alistair. We would be lost without you!”

“Maybe not lost”, Elissa said, now laughing, “but it would be a lot more boring without you and your bad one-liners”.

“Well then”, he said, “I’m glad I now have found a purpose. My new mission is to convince you that my one-liners are  _good_.”

“Killing the archdemon is probably easier than for you to convince me that”. Elissa’s eyes glittered as the trio returned to camp.

 

*

 

The nights were colder now than for a few weeks ago, and autumn had crossed the threshold. Leliana and Elissa decided to share a tent, as did Wynne and Solona. The two Circle mages almost never left the other's side, and Elissa was happy that the party now had a proper healer amongst them. Wynne proved to be wise and kind, and Solona, who had been inspired of the recent events now practiced the art of healing -- and found it interesting.

“I can’t believe I didn’t want to do this earlier”, she told Wynne when the older mage had taught her a new spell.

“Age brings wisdom and changes one's priorities, dear child", Wynne answered.

“Oh Wynne, don’t talk like that. I’m not  _that_  old yet”. Solona's eyes twinkled

The older woman shook her head and searched her mind for more useful healing techniques she could learn her former apprentice. “And here; yes, I must teach you this one. You should be able to use it next time Sten cracks Alistair’s nose when they spar…”

Since the Senior Enchanter joined the party, the mood had elevated. Even Morrigan, who still detested the Circle, found something like a mentor in Wynne who taught her more about different plants and their healing (and toxic) properties. And when Wynne saw that Sten seemed bored, she sent him out on small errands where he helped her collect different herbs. Leliana found it amusing – she once saw him pick a flower, and despite Sten’s persistent tries to tell her that it was for medicinal reasons, Leliana refused to believe him.

"I swear", she said once as they sat and ate. "He _is_ a softie". Although no one believed her -- especially not Alistair, she persisted. "One day I will be able to prove you that, and you shall apologize". Alistair put his hands up in the air, mouth full of food.

"Okey, okey! I believe you". 

 

Wynne noticed the glances Leliana sent Elissa, and remembered how she had found them together at Kinloch. Even though both she and Solona had lived a relatively sheltered life in the Tower, Wynne had been around for longer. It was not uncommon to hear about women or men who harbored romantic feelings for someone of the same gender,  _especially_  not in such an isolated place as Kinloch Hold. Wynne didn’t know what to think of it.

Elissa had an important mission; she was indeed one of the last three wardens in Ferelden, and a romance could jeopardize everything. She herself knew what hardships love could bring, and it wasn’t always in favor of the greater cause. But, Wynne confessed reluctantly, that the former lay sister and the teyrn of Highever’s daughter didn’t seem to do anything…  _unfitting_. They never left the camp together, they often took different night shifts and there were no suspicious sounds coming from their tent. The older mage decided to get some clarity in the matter and asked Solona when they shared the first of the three night shifts.

“Solona?”

“Mmh?”, she hummed while concentrating on sewing together a small hole in her tunic. Her tongue was pressed against her cheek. 

“Do you remember in Ostagar, the hours before the battle when you and Alistair spoke of Elissa?”

Solona blushed and put down her needle. “Um, yes", she blurted and smiled sheepishly. "I know, I know", she then said chastised, "it’s bad to nose around”.

“That was not what I meant”. A pause. “I wonder… You said then that you didn’t know much about her.” There was no way she could be delicate about this, but she _did_ her best. Sort of. Wynne was usually very blunt, so she thought this indeed was an improvement. “Has that changed?”

“I… I don’t think I understand?” Solona said with her eyes directed at the older mage.

“She is one of Ferelden’s last Grey Wardens". Wynne sighed. "I already know you, my dear, and Alistair I’ve talked quite a lot with. But Elissa… I just wonder if she belongs here”.

Solona thought for a few moments before she answered. “She takes duty seriously, and she has sworn herself to the order. But I understand where your concern comes from. She is the only one of us who were conscripted, and I think it is hard for her to adjust to this life. She is, to some extent, used to do what she wants. And to be stuck here with us…” Solona shrugged her shoulders. “I said I trusted her that day, and I still do. She would die for any of us here, even Sten and Morrigan, and I think that is why they follow her rather than any of us else. She is sometimes stupid, childish, reckless and unpleasant.” She chuckled a little. “But also strong and courageous, even though she sometimes gets insecure. It is as if she doesn’t know who she is. Oh, when we stayed at my relatives back in Lothering she looked like a puppy when we caught her…” Solona paused and groaned. “Maker’s breath, Wynne. You knew I would blabber, right? What is it you want to know?”

Wynne's eyes were actually wide in shock; “You met relatives in Lothering?”

“Yes", Solona said, beaming. "My mother’s cousin and her three children. They said I could visit them in Kirkwall, when the Blight is dealt with”.

Wynne smiled at her and patted her hand. “I am glad to hear it, dear. Undescribably so”. She paused. “I merely wondered, you see... I have seen that the sweet girl, Leliana, often looks at Elissa in a... _certain_ way… and I do not know what to think of her. She smokes the elfroot more than anyone I have ever met before, and sometimes she acts like the noble she is, but sometimes…” She didn’t have to finish the sentence before Solona’s fair-skinned cheeks returned to a bright red shade.

“You can’t ask me that!” Solona exclaimed and dropped her needle on the ground. “I’m sorry Wynne, but you should trust her. I know that you only been with us for a short time, and you are older and maybe don’t understand some things --”

Wynne interrupted the younger mage with a raised hand and a gentle voice. “Solona, I might understand more than you think. I just need clarity. I do not care about... _that_. If it indeed is her, and not you or Alistair that Morrigan and Sten turns to, I must know her better. And… she isn’t very talkative”.

“What you are asking is private, Wynne. You know that I respect you. I even confided in you about me and Cullen, when you could have sent him away! It was you who helped me get herbs when I was with child. But about Elissa and Leliana… I do not even know much. Maybe they have been with each other in  _certain_  ways, maybe not. I only know that Elissa…”

She surprised Wynne by letting out a chuckle, and Solona’s irritation had gone away as soon it showed up. “She was with Marian, my cousin, back in Lothering. I didn’t even realize such  _things_  existed. So, old lady, with that I won’t say anymore. Heck, I even refuse to. You have to ask them yourself if you’re curious. I have already said way too much”.

Her shoulders drooped and Wynne wished she hadn’t asked Solona this. “If you trust her, child, I’m sure I will as well”.

 

*

 

“You never told me about your vision”, Elissa whispered and played with the small braid in Leliana's hair. The rain pattered against the tent, and Elissa's voice almost drowned in the sounds.

They had put their bedrolls next to each other, both saying it was to keep them warm during the cold nights. While it was true, it was not the sole reason. They both knew it.

At night, Leliana told Elissa stories so she could fall asleep. And, when Elissa woke up screaming from nightmares, Leliana always was there and comforted her. Every morning when Elissa woke up, she thanked Leliana for being there.

‘You are the best sleeping spell one could wish for’, she had jested one morn. Leliana had smacked her shoulder, and Elissa had looked surprised, saying 'it was a compliment!". Leliana was not entirely convinced, but let it go. She enjoyed telling her stories anyway. 

They had not been intimate since the night at the inn a couple of weeks ago, and even if they both sought the other’s company, Elissa chose to put some distance between them. Elissa hadn’t asked Leliana something of importance, and Leliana hadn’t as well; their talks had not been more than shallow words and jests. Leliana wasn’t sure what Elissa thought of her and she hoped it wasn’t the scars on her body that had scared her away. She was glad that Elissa, on this particular night, finally decided to ask her something that actually held meaning. Leliana tucked a strand of hair from Elissa’s face behind her ear and smiled as she looked into her green eyes. It felt as if she got lost in an enchanted forest, and her heart fluttered at the thought of kissing her once again, as they had done that night.

“You are right, I haven’t. Maybe because you said I was a fool and left when I was about to tell you,  _oui_?”

Elissa smiled at that, but Leliana could tell that she felt a bit ashamed. “I did not call you a ‘fool’. I just said it was stupid… eh, your right, I am sorry. I just think it is hard to believe in gods and… such”. 

“And such?". Leliana looked amused, and Elissa shrugged. Leliana then grimaced and said, "You won’t make fun of me if I tell?”

“I will most certainly not, my lady! Oh, how it hurts me that you believe that. And to make you trust me and my good intentions, you have the permission to ask me… three, questions. About  _anything_.” Elissa’s eyes glimmered with mischief.

Leliana chuckled. “Well, that was generous of you. Are you prepared?”

“I am, my redheaded lady”. Elissa sat up and pulled a blanket around her. Leliana did the same, and Elissa handed her another blanket. Outside the wind howled, and a small candle burned slowly, and it flickered as they moved.

"Redheaded?", Leliana huffed. 

"At least I say you are redheaded, and not a carrot", Elissa defended herself, winking. Leliana huffed again. She was tired at Sten calling her an orange head, and Elissa was right; she was rather called redheaded. 

At least she was not a 'member of the Baresaad, and a softie'. 

Leliana's faced dulled. She actually did have a few questions she wanted answers too. Elissa looked at her, mirth in her eyes. Leliana licked her bottom lip, knowing that she needed to ask them. Knowing that the mirth in her eyes would disappear.

“... The night before we arrived at the Circle, you spoke of a name. Iona, you said. Who was she?” Leliana held her breath as the look in Elissa's eyes transformed into one pained of sorrow. _Forgive me_.

Elissa was, however, true to her word. After a deep breath, she answered. “She was my mother’s friend’s lady-in-waiting... and more importantly, my lover.". Elissa's eyes were downcast, and her stomach twisted. "She died in my arms the night Rendon Howe chose to kill us. An arrow ended her life; it went right through her chest. Her last word was her daughter’s name.” She paused and swallowed; her mouth was dry.

Leliana wanted to kiss the muscles on her throat; to kiss away her pain, just as Elissa did with her at the inn. But she knew that no kisses would remove the pain. If so, all would be prostitutes.

“Amethyne", Elissa exhaled. "I bet she is at an orphanage now, in Denerim. When this Blight is over, I intend to make sure she has a good life. It is the least I can do”.

Tears burned behind Leliana's eyes. While a part of her regretted her question, the other part didn't. “Thank you for telling me”, she whispered thickly.

“I said that I would, Leli”. Elissa gave her a small and insecure smile, seeking her blue eyes with her own, to see if it was alright for her to call her that. Leliana smiled back, just as wanly and insecure. Was it alright? Yes, Leliana decided. It was most definitely alright.

“The second question?”

Leliana did not have to think for long. “I wonder about the one you said betrayed you at Ostagar. The one you said it hurt too much to speak about. Was she your lover too?”

Elissa’s hand trembled as her hand started to massage her own chest; right over the heart, as if she wanted to see if it was still beating. It was. How was it possible? Her voice was hoarse when she finally could speak.

“Daryn. Yes, she was. Maybe, she still is”. Leliana flinched; the words hit her as if it was a qunari's fist, but she continued to listen. “She is the most honorable woman I have ever met. The most loyal. She is a knight, you see, and if she betrayed me – us, I mean, she must have had good reasons. I do not know if we loved each other, but we respected and cared for one another.” Elissa hid her face in her hands and took a ragged breath, preparing herself for the next question. Thank the Maker she only said Leliana was allowed three. “The last one?”

“You haven’t touched me since that night. I wonder, is it because of my scars? Am I too broken for you? I know that I’m not --”

Elissa looked up at her in genuine surprise. “Scars?” she interrupted. “I have not noticed any scars.” Elissa rubbed her temples. “Only the one on your stomach”.

Leliana regretted her question and felt a wave of shame flow through her, thinking that Elissa must have been too intoxicated to notice or remember; Elissa had had both poppy and alcohol flowing in her veins when they were together.

“Do you remember what I told you that night?”.

Elissa nodded as she answered, “I remember everything”. She reached out her hand to Leliana, who grabbed it.

“As I said then --”, her voice cracked and Elissa moved closer in a desperate act to support her. “… I was tortured", she continued weakly. "Most of the scars are on my back, and of course, in my mind. The one on my stomach… _she_ gave me before leaving me to bleed to death, letting the guards find me only to imprison me”. She gave Elissa a pale smile. “But when I come to think about it, you never saw my back, did you? You were too focused… on other parts. However, I thought maybe you avoided me because of that. We have slept in the same tent, and in the same bed, almost every night since the Circle, and you have never… You have never indicated that you wanted anything more. And I cannot stop thinking about it. Once I was vain, once I had long beautiful hair just as you do”, her fingers played with Elissa's locks, “and I dressed in expensive clothes. Now I’m… broken”.

“Leli. Show your back for me”, Elissa said softly after a moment of silence. “Let me see you, all of you”.

Leliana hesitated before she removed her tunic, and she sat before her not wearing more than knickers. The candle flickered and the soft light danced on her pale, freckled body. Leliana felt awfully self-conscious and forced herself not to cover up.

Elissa leaned towards her, letting her fingers stroke Leliana’s back, and she felt elevated strands of skin. “Lay down, my lady”, Elissa whispered to Leliana who did as she asked, shivering. Elissa moved the candle closer to Leliana's back, so that she could see. And she saw. Silvery and purple strokes decorated her back, just as she had said it did. But broken? No. Those who painted her back were madmen who ate for the coins they got from inflicting others pain, but the result was beautiful nonetheless.

“Imperfection, my lady, is what makes a painting perfect”. Elissa carefully grabbed Leliana’s tense shoulder so she rolled around, with her scarred back now on the bedroll. “And you are a masterpiece”. Elissa’s breath was warm against Leliana’s skin. “What they did to you is unforgivable, and your lover…” Elissa clenched her jaw. “Would you be so kind as to tell me her name, Leli?”

Leliana sniffled and felt tears roll down her cheeks. “Marjolaine”, she answered feebly, as if uttering the name took another piece of her soul. At this moment, it probably did.

Elissa placed a tender kiss on the tip of Leliana's nose and laid down next to her, letting her bury her head into the crook of her shoulder. Marjolaine _,_ Elissa thought as she felt her body pulse with suppressed ire. How could you do let them do this to a woman such as her? How could you betray her?

When Leliana no longer sniffled, she looked up at Elissa with those beautiful - now swollen, eyes. “My vision…” she began, trembling, “came to me in a dream. It was an impenetrable darkness… It was so dense, so real. And there was a noise, a terrible, ungodly noise. I stood on a peak and watched as the darkness consumed everything… and when the storm swallowed the last of the sun’s light, I… I fell, and the darkness drew me in.” She paused and closed her eyes, remembering. “And I just knew that the darkness was the Blight. When I woke, I went to the chantry’s gardens, as I always do. But that day, the rosebush in the corner had flowered. Everyone knew that bush was dead. It was grey, twisted and gnarled – the ugliest thing you ever saw, but there it was – a single, beautiful rose. It was as though the Maker stretched out His hand to say ‘Even in the midst of this darkness, there is hope and beauty. Have faith’. Then I knew I had to do something about this Blight, and here I am”.    

Elissa was quiet and Leliana tensed. She knew that Elissa wasn’t a religious woman, but Leliana hoped that she at least wouldn’t make fun of her. The candle died, and it felt as if the wind grew hungrier and the rain heavier.

“The archdemon”, Elissa said with a low, convinced voice. “Remember when I said that it was going to kill me?”

“ _Oui_ ”, Leliana answered as she laid her hand on the woman’s stomach. She felt Elissa's pulse beat faster under her touch.

“He spoke to me last night.” She paused. “He whispers, yet it feels like my ears bleed”. Another pause. “I think I could say that he is my rose”.

“ _Je ne comprend pas",_ Leliana said with narrowed brows. "What do you mean?”

“I mean that he will save me from this dead and twisted world… but I do not know how. And you know what? It does not scare me. I will meet those I have lost before the next winter, Leliana.”

“Stop!", Leliana spluttered. "You frighten me with those words, Elissa. Have you gone insane? Do not say such things!”

If it weren’t for the darkness around them, Leliana could have sworn that Elissa had a facial expression filled with madness.

“Will you remember me, Leli?” Elissa sat up and dug around in her pack. She brought up a small vial, uncorked it and drank. She breathed heavily and Leliana suddenly felt afraid of her.

“What are you drinking?” Leliana asked her.

“Salvation”, Elissa sighed as she let back the vial in the pack. “I... I am sorry, I scared you. It will not happen again.”

They heard someone clear the throat outside their tent. “Elissa, it’s your and Morrigan’s shift now. I’ll go wake her for you. Ugh. I hope she won’t cast a ball of fire at me this time”.

“Thank you, Alistair”, Elissa answered blandly and waited until she heard Alistair’s footsteps disappear before she sought Leliana’s eyes in the dark. “Forgive me. I must still suffer from… well, something. Please”, her voice was now desperate, “forgive what I said”.

She took her blanket and wrapped it around her as she stood up.

When she was to leave the tent, Leliana reached out for her. “I’ll wait up for you. We need to talk about this”.

“Don’t”. Her voice was first soft, but then it changed to something more sternly. “Don’t bother”.


	14. Chapter 14

Wynne, Solona, and Alistair walked together. It was a nice day, and it helped that they now were not more than a couple of days from Redcliffe. Alistair was happy to tell them about his upbringing there, gesturing wildly as he told them about his mischiefs.

Morrigan was flying – she had taken the shape of a raven, and she flew in circles over them. Probably because she was tired of Alistair's countless stories. For once, Solona had to agree with Morrigan, and Solona would have joined her if she had known the ability.

Solona watched Morrigan fly, and just as she was about to say that she looked majestic, and how she wished that she too could shapeshift, Alistair ruined it.

“I sincerely hope she doesn’t drop a dead rat on me”, Alistair chortled as he pointedly ran his fingers through his carefully styled hair, “it would ruin my looks”.

Solona rolled her eyes at the statement. “If you keep saying things like that, I would support her in doing so”, she muttered and Wynne smiled to herself as she heard their bickering. Alistair had seemed more nervous the last days, and when something was on his mind, he said the strangest things. He was most certainly about to say another strange thing, when he was interrupted by Leliana, who had went in stride to them, almost whispering when she arrived.

“I- I must ask you something”, Leliana said and flickered with her eyes. “Something about your… Grey Warden dreams”.

Wynne arched a brow and looked curiously on the other two wardens, but stayed quiet to hear what they were to say about it. She did not know much about it at all. Solona had, for once, chosen not to blabber about her Order. And Wynne knew better than to ask -- the still regretted the last time she had asked Solona something she shouldn't.

“Alright. What is it you wonder about?” Alistair gave the Leliana an inquiring glance, and Solona was glad to see that he at least still took Grey Warden business serious. 

“I don’t know how to ask you this…” she began and bit her lip, pondering how she was to articulate her question. “But the archdemon. Do you feel like it… talks to you, and shows you the future?”

Solona looked puzzledly to Alistair who shook his head thoughtfully, and she followed suit. “Older Grey Wardens say that they can understand the archdemon a bit”, Alistair explained while rubbing his stubble. “It talks with the darkspawn horde and  _that_  we can sense... But it doesn’t show us anything, nor does it talk to  _us_  directly. Why… why do you ask?”

Solona followed Leliana’s gaze to Elissa. She went a few meters in front of them, talking with Sten. She could overhear a few words in qunlat – Sten probably tried to teach her some words in his language, but by Sten’s exasperated tone Solona figured that Elissa was not too successful.

“Has she said anything?” Solona asked and couldn’t help but wish Wynne wasn’t here to hear this. Elissa didn’t need to be mistrusted. Leliana nodded, not letting her eyes leave Elissa’s form.

“ _Oui_. She told me last night… that the archdemon speaks to her. Saying, that he is going to kill her. I’m… worried”.

Wynne narrowed her eyes when she looked at Solona. “Are you still sure she is to be trusted? It seems like she is not up for the task”.

Solona was about to answer when she felt her head tingle, and Alistair’s jaw tensed. He felt it too. Apparently did Elissa as well; she had stopped dead in her tracks in front of them.

“Darkspawn!” Elissa shouted as she pivoted to face the rest of the group. The raven landed next to Elissa and transformed into her human shape. Elissa had carried the rags that Morrigan wore as clothes, and handed them casually to her. Alistair blushed and averted his gaze from the naked apostate.

“There is at least two dozen of them, north-west, heading our way”, Morrigan reported while donning her clothes. Elissa nodded. Sweat beads formed on Elissa’s forehead and her jaw twitched. They had never alone fought against such a big group of darkspawn before.

Alistair and Solona ran up to her. They looked equally as nervous, and somehow, it was soothing not to be the only one feeling that. 

“Sten,” Elissa commanded, the air filled with newfound authority. “Make sure you do not get hit. If you do, you must retreat to a safe distance. And, if you get tainted, we will lose you, and that I will  _not_  accept”.

The qunari nodded as he answered, “I will do as you say”.

“Solona, make sure the mages and Leliana are at a safe distance from them. Leli, if you can, climb up a tree so you can get a good view. And Wynne, Solona - if someone needs healing, you  _must_  wait until it is safe for you to approach.”

In the distance they heard the horde of darkspawn screech as they sensed the Grey Wardens, whom all groaned; their heads throbbed. Elissa brought with trembling hands up a vial with poppy juice and took a sip. Solona noticed that Morrigan wanted to say something, but wisely, she decided to wait until she and Elissa were alone.

“Truce” - the dog barked - “You need to keep Sten’s back. If he has to retreat, you must protect him. And Solona, make sure Frost does not let any darkspawn come near any of you”. Solona nodded, and Elissa turned to the newest companion. “Wynne, if necessary, make sure to shield those you can with a barrier”.

Elissa then looked at her comrade-in-arms. She sweated profoundly by now, despite the chilly air. “Alistair”, she grabbed his hand and held the other, free hand balled against her chest, “let us make the Griffon proud”.

Alistair squared his shoulders and nodded rigidly. “We shall”.

The horde closed in on them and Alistair unstrapped his shield from his back and unsheathed his sword, and Elissa felt the rush of adrenaline fill her as she weighed her family sword in her hand after strapping her shield onto her left arm.

Elissa saw in the corner of her eye how Leliana swiftly, with the grace of a cat, climbed up a tree, readying her bow. With a deep breath, Elissa calmed down slightly, knowing Leliana at least would be out of most of the darkspawns’ reach.

 

The horde now closed in, and Elissa and Alistair thundered towards them with a united battle cry. They fought as they used to; back against back, while she tried to ignore the flashing pain from her leg injury. Elissa was proud to see that Alistair was ruthless – he wasn’t good at killing people, but at darkspawn... Well. The darkspawn did have that effect on one’s mind, after all. Their grim faces haunted the wardens not only on the battleground but also in their sleep, knowing that the darkspawn ichor in their veins slowly turned them into ghouls.

Sten’s old axe broke when it clashed against a genlock’s armour, and he hung his head in shame over the fact that he had to retreat with Truce guarding his back. The dog’s fur was covered in darkspawn ichor, and Wynne made sure to rise a barrier around them.

  
All Elissa and Alistair could think about were to kill the tainted creatures. The adrenaline in their bodies made them an unstoppable force; as long they kept close to one another. Arrows, fire, ice, and electricity flew next to their heads - assisted them with keeping the creatures at bay. Elissa gave Morrigan a thanking nod as she helped to stun a hurlock which almost assaulted her. Alistair slammed one of the last monsters with his shield, and Elissa ended its life by decapitating it. Solona made sure the last darkspawn died with an awful shriek as it withered away, and silence fell heavy.

Truce ran to Elissa who sat down on the ground and lit her pipe, not caring about the tainted bodies lying around her. “You need a bath, my sweet boy”, she welcomed him as she reached out her hand to scratch him behind his -–

“Solona!” Elissa shouted, her voice shrill with panic. “Truce has lost an ear!”.

Solona hurried through the field of corpses to Elissa. Wynne would have been a better alternative, but Elissa refused to let her risk getting tainted. Truce whimpered, and Solona checked his body after more wounds before she put her hands against the dog’s head. A blue, almost floating liquid searched its way to the wound and sealed it.

“So”, Solona said looking at the hound, “you’ll be fine, my friend. At least it will be easier to tell the difference between you and Frost, now when you’re missing an ear”.

Truce barked and licked Solona’s hand as a way to thank her. Solona was not too delighted to have him lick her with a tongue covered in ichor and rotten flesh, but it was preferable to have him biting her for touching him when he was in pain. 

“Thank you”, Elissa whispered to her Warden-sister as she continued to puff on her pipe with tears in her eyes, not able to move. Truce was the only family she had left, and she would rather die than let the mabari get injured.

“Don’t think about it”, Solona smiled reassuringly to her. She offered the pipe-smoking warden a hand to help her get up. Elissa looked around on the dead darkspawn, her brows raised, as if she had not noticed them. “We should burn them”.

 “We should”, Solona agreed, “but I believe we better hurry to Redcliffe. First when the Order is rebuilt, we can clean all of Ferelden from sites like this. One blighted place more or less…”. Solona shrugged her shoulders.  

Elissa nodded in agreement and sent her a small smile. “You are right, as always”.

 

*

 

“Solona, Elissa, I, uh, need to speak with you two. Alone…  _please_ ”. Alistair scratched his neck and grinned nervously.

“Oh no! Forget it! I will not allow you to try a new recipe so you can ruin our last pan!”, Elissa tried to jest. It was forced, and the response equally as forced. She didn’t fool them - none in the party (especially not Wynne) missed the dark circles that harbored under her bloodshot eyes. Elissa hadn’t slept for two nights, and she had stayed away from Leliana as much she could. Now they spotted Redcliffe Castle’s silhouette in the distance. 

Alistair rolled his eyes. “Ha-ha, very funny”.

Solona nodded and dragged Elissa with her, and didn’t stop until the trio was away from the others.   
“I hope it is time for you to tell me why you’ve been acting so strange lately”, Solona muttered and crossed her arms while closing her eyes into slits, glaring at Alistair.  

“Yes…” he sighed as he raked his hair. “I, ah, don’t be mad at me. I know, I should have told you this earlier. We’re almost at Redcliffe, as you know, of course. Ah, yes… how should I tell you this?” He flickered with his eyes and Solona laid a hand over his and her features softened.

“Just tell us, Alistair. We’re here for each other”.

He smiled at her but let it fade away and he squeezed her hand. “Yeah. So… I’m a bastard”. He paused and Elissa looked at him, brow arched.

“Wow. I hope for your sake that you do not stop there, or Morrigan will enjoy hearing about this”.

Alistair clucked and relaxed a little, a bit of mirth shone from his eyes.

“No, no. There’s more”.

Solona still held his hand and he blushed when he gently freed himself from her.

“My mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe Castle. She died in childbed, when I was born. Arl Eamon took me in - he raised me, until I was sent to the Chantry for the…” He gave Solona a quick glance “.. eh, templar training”. Now he nervously scratched his chin. He hadn’t had the chance to shave in several days, and Solona thought it suited him. “The reason he did that – raised me I mean, not the Chantry thing…” Another pause. There was no easy way for him to tell them this. He spoke faster, as if it made it easier. “I’m King Maric’s son. Yes. King Maric was my father. And I guess that made Cailan my half-brother. I suppose”.

Elissa and Solona just looked at him with wide eyes and his face grew even redder, and he trampled the ground as if he were contemplating the option to run away.

Elissa was the first one to break the silence. “Soo… you are telling me that you are not just a bastard. But a royal bastard? Oh, Morrigan will think this is hilarious”. She laughed softly and patted his shoulder and he joined in, mighty relieved.

“But promise me”, he said when the laughter faded out. “Promise not to treat me any different. Just pretend I’m a nobody who was too lucky not to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens”.

“As I’ve said before, Alistair”, Solona looked into Alistair’s eyes. “You are not a nobody, no matter what. We don’t care about the blood in your veins, we care about  _you_ ”. Alistair returned his hand to hers, and now it was her time to blush.      

“I agree with Solona”. Elissa gave him a lopsided smile. “And even though I never make promises, I will do an exception this time…  _Your Highness_ ”. Alistair mock-groaned and Solona chuckled. He felt light as a feather. Why was he so afraid to tell his weapon-brethren this?

He trusted them with his life.

 

*

 

Teagan Guerrin, Bann of Rainesfere and brother to the arl, was the one who welcomed the party in Redcliffe’s chantry. At first, he recognized neither Alistair nor Elissa, but he shone up when they told him who they were.    
“Alistair, the last time I saw you, you were covered in mud” he smiled. “And Your Ladyship, I’m glad to see that you’re alive.” He bowed to her. “As you know, I knew your father, and I don’t believe a word Howe nor Loghain says about House Cousland… or the Grey Wardens, for that matter. I know your father was an honorable man, and I know the Grey Warden’s not responsible for my nephew’s death.” He cleared his throat. “But regarding my brother… I’m afraid I have to bring you grim news…”

He told them that Arl Eamon was gravely ill and that no one had heard from the castle in several days. In addition, at night time, decomposing bodies surged from the castle and killed many of those who lived in the village. In another time, Elissa would have laughed at that, not believing a word he said.

She did not laugh.

“May you aid us against the walkers?”, Teagan asked them with worn eyes. Only a glimmer of hope kept them from looking dead. “I fear we might not live in the morning if you don’t. We have lost many men”. A beat, and he slumped, “More than I can count”.

“Ah. This sounds like fun”, Morrigan commented dryly when Bann Teagan silenced. “The Blight really brings out the best in people. Even the dead, it seems”.

Elissa chose to ignore Morrigan's comment, and shared instead an inquiring glance with the two other wardens. Their looks said the very same; who were they to say no? They needed the arl’s help against Loghain, and for that, they needed both Teagan’s approval as well as the townsfolks'. Pure strategy, Elissa thought. Pure altruism, Solona thought. Pure duty, Alistair thought. Neither of them was wrong.

The Grey Wardens were already despised, and to let a whole village perish wouldn’t exactly help their cause. 

“Lord Teagan”, Elissa began solemnly, “Prepare your men for tonight. Let my companions eat, take a bath and rest before we help you. We have traveled a long way”.

“Of course, Your Ladyship. I will tell the innkeeper to prepare rooms for you all”. He bowed, grateful, and walked away. His back was a bit straighter.

When the Bann and his men disappeared through the door, Wynne approached Elissa. She did not look happy.

“Grey Wardens have denounced their titles, have they not?”, she inquired forcefully. Elissa only looked at her with tired eyes, and Solona shook her head, trying to avoid a conflict between her two friends.   
“Wynne, come with me--“

“No, child”, Wynne interjected sternly. “I want to hear what your self-appointed Warden-Commander has to say for herself”. Morrigan and Sten stepped so that they stood next to Elissa. She was both grateful and surprised at that, but decided to gesture them to stand back. Just like Solona, she did not wish for internal conflict.

“I just did not think it was the right time to correct him, Wynne”. Her voice was raspy. “When we meet him later, I will make sure he knows that I am not to be called by that title anymore. Alright?”.

Wynne narrowed her eyes but gave her a slight nod before she whirled around and left for the inn.

“You can go too”, Elissa said to the rest of them with a pale smile. “I will come later”.

“Are you sure?”, Solona wondered with a worried voice. “Maker. I’m sorry Elissa. She is the kindest, she is just –“

“You do not have to explain, Solona. I understand her. I would not trust me either. Now go and prepare yourself for tonight.” She patted Solona’s arm and turned her gaze to Alistair. “You too, my prince”. She winked to him and Alistair groaned, but Elissa did not miss the smile that grew onto his lips.

Morrigan arched a brow and put a hand on her hip, and snarled as they left the Chantry. “What was that about,  _frog_?". Elissa wished for once she heard the answer.

When her companions had gone away, Elissa turned to the Revered Mother, who silently had watched the exchange between her and Wynne.

“I thank you, warden, for offering your help to us”, Revered Mother Hannah said graciously. Elissa looked at her, and allowed her shoulders to slouch.

“I fear it is too early for you to thank me, Mother. If we succeed in saving your village, you may thank us then, if it still is your wish”.

She put a light hand on Elissa’s shoulder. “I am grateful for your attempt, even if it fails. We can not ask for more”.

Elissa fell down on her knees before the head of Redcliffe’s Chantry, and grasped the hem of Hannah’s robe in desperation. The fabric was wet from dragging against the ground. “May I ask you something, Reverend Mother?” Elissa wondered hoarsely. She dared not to meet the cleric’s gaze.

“Of course, child”. Revered Mother Hannah’s voice was mild and without judgment, and Elissa almost wept from hearing it.

Instead of giving in to her tears, she swallowed. Hard. “I shall first confess to you, I am not religious. It is just that… I sometimes fear I have demons inside of me. Envy, pride, fear… desire. Despair”. Elissa looked down on the damp stone floor beneath her. “I wonder if I could get your blessing. I am…” Her words trailed off and the Revered Mother crouched next to her.

“Your parents were the Teyrn and Teyrna of Highever, if I heard Bann Teagan correctly?”. Elissa nodded. “And now you are a Grey Warden, fighting against the biggest of threats against all of Thedas. Forgive me, child, for I am not longer young, but if I remember accurately, the Cousland motto is ‘A Cousland always does their duty’?” Elissa nodded once more and felt quiet tears fall down her cheeks. She could no longer restrain the tears from flowing.

“It was the last thing my father told me before he...” She swallowed once more, her throat thick with emotion. “He said that I always shall follow my duty, and that my duty now is towards the Grey Wardens”.

“Yes. And here you are, taking the burdens of others  _and_  fulfilling your duty towards the Order of the Grey.” Hannah put a soft hand on Elissa’s shivering shoulder. “All men sometimes fear they have demons inside them, child. I will give you my blessing. Just remember that you do not have to believe in the Maker. Believe in yourself, and all will be fine.” The Revered Mother kneeled next to Elissa and began chanting.

 

“Blessed art thou who exists in the Maker’s sight.

Blessed art thou who seeks His forgiveness.

Blessed art thou who seeks His return.

Blessed is the Prophetess, His daughter, sacrificed to the holy flame.

May the Chant reach the Maker’s ears and tell Him of our contrition.”

 

The silence fell heavy into the room, and they kneeled there together, not saying a word, for several minutes before Elissa spoke.

“Thank you, Revered Mother”, Elissa wiped her cheeks dry with her hand.

Hannah stood up and sought her glum eyes. “Go and rest now, child, for the night will be long and blood will flow.” She hesitated before she continued, “Remember that shadows thrive in the absence of light. I think you should try to find your light.”

Elissa returned the Revered Mother’s wan smile and rose up.

She was about to leave the Chantry when she saw Leliana step out from the shadows, watching her with an intense gaze. Leliana tilted her head slightly, letting Elissa know that she had heard it all.

Elissa sighed and tramped out of the building, heading towards the inn.

Her head spun, and she asked herself; was Leliana her shadow or light?

 

*

 

Elissa had just gotten up from the tepid bath when it rapped on the door. Her leg still ached, but the water helped to ease her muscles. Her life would have been much easier if it was possible to bring a tub with during their travels. Elissa hurried to put on a tunic and trousers as it knocked once more. Frustrated, she decided to let her wet hair hang down her back, dripping on the floor.

“You may come in!”, she shouted and Truce looked curiously at the door. The door opened with a click, and Solona and Alistair stepped in, also dressed in some relatively fresh yet simple clothes.

“I hope we didn’t disturb you”, Solona said as she carefully closed the door behind her. “But we need to talk”.

“Is it time?” Elissa looked out through the window. The sun still lingered in the sky. The walking dead would not arrive for some hours.

Alistair cleared his throat. “No, not yet”.

“Well then?” She felt how a lump of anxiety began to grow in her chest. She really didn’t like conflicts like these, and by the look on their faces, she was certain a conflict was incoming.

“We are worried, that is all”, Solona started diplomatically and averted her gaze to Alistair who leaned his back on the door. She crinkled her nose. It looked like he was barring the door. “Leliana too", she said carefully. "She told us about the archdemon… Apparently, you said that it spoke to you, that it told you it would kill you... uh. Yes?”. Solona gritted her teeth and glared at Alistair, hoping for his help.

They should have rehearsed this.

Elissa squirmed. First Wynne, now Leliana, Solona, and Alistair. The thought of being with hostile walking dead didn’t feel as eerie anymore; they were at least more practical and blunt rather than… scheming and backstabbing. At least this gave Elissa a minute of self-reflection, and she accepted that she did not appreciate to be questioned. At all. She blamed it on the blue blood.

“We only wonder, Elissa...”. Alistair’s voice was unusually soft. It didn't bode well. “You have lost your whole family and were thrown into this life. We know you didn’t choose to become a warden. It would not be the strangest thing that could happen; the mind has played tricks for less”. Solona thrust an elbow into his side and he grimaced while scratching his chin, now clean shaved.

“Yes. You are probably right”, Elissa forced herself to give them a courtly smile. "It is nothing. My mind is probably, as you put it, 'tricked'". She had been forced to fake her whole life; that was a necessity as a noble. But, this time she did it to those she considered friends. It was tough, but not impossible. “And I once more want to say how terribly sorry I am for what happened in the Chantry earlier, with our... _dear_... Wynne". Not a lie. "I hope I will be able to repair that situation". Well, that was true, at least. "Thank you dearly for your consideration. I understand your worry, but I  _promise_  that I am fine.” That, on the other hand, was a lie.

She gave them a slight bow and realized she overdid it. If it wasn’t for the anger that bubbled in her, she would have blushed in shame. “Now, if you excuse me, dear comrades, I have to finish my preparations.” She went to the door and stared at Alistair until he moved so she could open it.

“But –-“ Solona began helplessly.

Elissa interrupted her, “I would really appreciate it if you left”. Her voice was stern and icy, just as her eyes. If her father had been alive, he would have seen Eleanor on her.

Truce understood that something was wrong and whimpered, confused. Solona rubbed her forehead in frustration, knowing that it would be to no use to continue the discussion. She hesitated before she dragged Alistair out with her. The door slammed shut behind them, almost squeezing him. 

“Well, that didn’t go as planned”, Alistair murmured as he stared down his boots.

“It certainly did not”, Solona muttered. 


	15. Chapter 15

The Revered Mother was right; the night had been long and blood had flowed, but after many hours of fighting, they managed to drive away the walking corpses. Sten had received a new axe from the village’s blacksmith, and he had used it well. There were few men – even dead ones - that could stand against an armed qunari.

Wynne and Solona healed the villagers and knights in the Chantry when the battle had ended. Not even Knight-Commander Harrith objected to it -- the sisters and the village's only physician needed all the help they could get. Leliana joined Revered Mother Hannah in the Chantry and helped with what she could, while Alistair and Sten carried away the corpses, building a pyre. It was only Morrigan and Elissa who had gone back to the inn.

“Could I have two wine bottles and a whiskey, please?” Elissa asked the innkeeper named Lloyd. He was overjoyed – who wouldn’t be when the walking corpses no longer was a threat to both his life and business – and he gave her them, winked and said it was on the house. Morrigan sighed as she saw that Elissa’s eyes lingered on the redheaded waitress named Bella. When Lloyd looked away, Elissa quickly handed her a few coins. Bella was about to thank her when Elissa shook her head while pointedly looking at Lloyd. He would probably not let her keep them.

Apparently, Elissa could be altruistic too, Morrigan thought. So long it was a redheaded woman who needed help. What was it with redheads, anyway?

“Come down and smoke with me later, will you?”, Bella smiled and patted a pouch with tobacco by her hip. “After drowning your sorrows as the doomed soul you are, yeah?”

“Hah. I would love to”, Elissa said before going to climb the stairs. Morrigan rolled her eyes and followed Elissa into her room. She closed it before Truce had time to enter, and he whined when he realized he was not going to be let in. Elissa uncorked the first bottle and drank straight from it. Morrigan crossed her arms and watched while some of the wine poured down the warden’s neck and mixed with the blood that covered her armor and visible skin.

“And they say you are noble”, Morrigan scoffed.

“Mhh”, Elissa grumbled as she panted for air after holding her breath a bit too long, “And they say you are frightening”. Morrigan snorted and gave her an almost invisible lopsided smile.

“I can be a little intimidating… if I must”.

“I saw you tremble while fighting the corpses, my friend. You are no golem. But, you might be right. I do not wish to be on your naughty list”. Elissa grinned and Morrigan stood quiet and shook her head as Elissa offered her some wine. When Elissa had finished the first bottle and uncorked the other, Morrigan sighed.

“I must ask, warden. Are you still drinking poppy juice?”

Elissa stiffened and closed her eyes before answering. A muscle on her jaw twitched. “You know I do”.

“If you want to come out of the Blight alive, you might want to rethink that decision”.

“You too?". Elissa sounded exasperated. "Well, who says I will come out alive either way?”.

Elissa threw away the bottle. It burst against the timber wall. “Ah, and now I have to clean before we leave. That was stupid” she muttered. She threw herself on the bed, resisting the urge to gag. To drink much and fast was to beg for nausea. She knew better. She just did not care.

Morrigan sat down on the bedside and cradled her head in her lap. She hesitated before she began stroking Elissa's braided hair. It was matted with blood. Elissa did not fret away from the touch, but almost seemed to lean into it.

She wasn’t sure why she did what she did -- if it was to manipulate her, or if it was because Elissa truly felt like Morrigan assumed a friend felt like. Elissa had, after all, never judged or questioned her. She never pushed her and in matters where they disagreed, she accepted their different views.

“I want to ask a favor from you”, Morrigan said slowly, still stroking her hair.

“Anything,  _schweet_  witch”. The alcohol had hit her with a blast and Morrigan forced herself not to sigh.

“I need you to kill Flemeth for me. In the fake grimoire I found –-“

She didn’t even have to explain why. Elissa jolted up into a sitting position and stared at her through heavy eyes. She knew that this was a serious subject and guessed Morrigan never would have asked otherwise.

“Alright", she interrupted. "You do not have to explain yourself". A deep breath was inhaled. "But it may take me a while before it gets done. We have other pressing matters to attend to first. If you wish... you may tell me more at a later occasion. Now,” she said with a sobered voice and stretched for her pipe, “I have to sleep". Elissa gave Morrigan an asking glance. "You can accompany me, if you want”. 

She even had the stomach to wink, and Morrigan rolled her eyes as she said, ”I would rather not”.

Elissa's eyes shadowed, but soon she gave Morrigan a courtly smile. “Then, what are you waiting for? I have agreed to kill your Mother, the fucking Witch of the Wilds. No questions asked". Elissa then clenched her jaw. "The door is right… there”. She pointed at it. “Just don’t let the dog get in. I do not want him to step on the glass”.

Morrigan stared at Elissa before leaving without a word. She didn’t let Truce in, just as she had asked.

Elissa ignored his whines and she lit her pipe.

 

*

 

Bann Teagan met the party at noon outside the inn. The Bann’s brown hair was still damp from the bath he had taken in order to wash away the sweat and blood from the night’s battle. He shook Alistair’s hand fervently and nodded to the clearly still drunk Elissa. She couldn’t even stand straight.

When he spoke, it was directed to them all, “Thank you, my friends. You have helped me save the village. And, while I have to stay here and guard the villagers, I will show you a secret passage to the castle so you can meet the arl. I –“

"Um", Alistair interrupted and looked at something behind Teagan. "Who is that?" A beat. "No... It can't be...?"

A frantic woman ran towards them, accompanied by an exhausted guard. “Teagan”, she shouted hysterically in an Orlesian accent.

Morrigan was awfully tired of Orlesian accents. 

“Thank the Maker you’re still alive", the woman panted as she caught up with them, grasping a handful of Teagan's shirt. "You must come with me to the castle. Something evil is there, and my Connor is going mad!”

“Isolde, you must calm down”, Teagan urged her, confusion in his eyes. He gave Alistair a puzzled look. 

Alistair stepped forward and opened his mouth, “Lady Isolde", he cleared his throat, "do you believe it could be a demon?”

Isolde, who hadn’t paid the rest of them any attention, gave him a confused look. “I… I do not know. Who are you?”

”Alistair, my lady”, he answered and gave her a slight bow.

“Oh”, she answered, still confused. She hadn’t thought of him for a long time, and she was never fond of the boy who lived with her and her husband, Arl Eamon. When he did, it circulated rumors that he was the arl’s bastard son. No wife wanted to hear such rumors.

What was he doing there? The last she heard of him, he was with the Grey Wardens. And the faith of them was known.

Her eyes drifted from him to Elissa. Her eyes narrowed. “Lady Cousland, is it you?” Her tone dripped with distaste. The woman before her was truly the essence of the many rumors that buzzed around her.

“It is me, yes”. Elissa felt pearls of sweat form on her upper lip. She just wanted to crawl back in the bed. She gave Wynne an oblique glance. Wynne did not look pleased at all.“But now I am a warden, and should not go by that title anymore, my lady”. She bowed to her, and let her gaze return to Wynne. No. Wynne's expression did not change.

Isolde gave her a slight nod and turned back to Teagan, not as frantic as before.  
“I promised Connor to come back with you, and you alone. I cannot risk him getting hurt”.

Teagan pinched the bridge on his nose, thinking. “I will come back with you; I just need to speak with these men in private first. Go and wait for me by the bridge, and I will join you in a minute”.

“Thank the Maker! Bless you, Teagan”.

“So”, the Bann watched her and the guard walk away, and turned to the group with a concerned wrinkle between his brows. “This is what we will do…”.

 

*

 

The group sneaked around in the castle’s basement. They had been surprised to encounter more of the walking corpses, but luckily, they finished them with ease. As long the undead did not attack in high numbers, they were easy to handle. 

The intruders stiffed as a male voice echoed against the stonewalls in the castle’s cellar; “Hello?", he wondered nervously. "Who’s there? Is there anyone out there?”.

Solona's gasp broke the tension, and she looked at Wynne. Recognition shone in their eyes. To Elissa, this all was entirely baffling. But she still had a hard time to stand straight, so maybe it did not matter what she thought.

“Jowan?” Solona asked. The man did not respond, and the group advanced forward. Soon they spotted a man that was sitting curled up in a cell. Solona continued, “Jowan? Is… Is it really you?”.

“Wynne! Solona!” He looked up from the floor, eyes lit up like the torches on the walls. “By all that’s holy… I can’t believe it…” He stood up and put his hands around the cell bars. “Maker’s breath! How did you two get here? I never thought I’d see you again, of all people.”

Solona hurried to him, and stopped in front of the cell. She stared at him, incredulously. What had he done now? She could not ask that, though, and asked instead; “What have they done to you, Jowan?”

He sighed heavily, and unknowingly, he answered both her questions. “What they do to all traitors, my friend. And… would-be assassins.” He paused and leaned his head against the cold prison bars. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent you to finish me off”.

Solona put her hand over his. “Tell me what’s happened”, she begged with a low voice. Wynne glared at Jowan with a steely gaze and his eyes flickered. He was, however, determined to tell the truth. He was sick and tired of lies by now, anyway. He could at least regain some valor before he was executed.

“I have poisoned the arl… He might even be dead, for all I know. But I swear to you”, he exclaimed and looked at the other two Circle mages, “I am not behind everything else that is happening here!” He sighed again as Wynne and Solona contemplated what he said. “Before you do anything else… I must ask. What became of Lily? They didn’t hurt her, did they? The thought that she might have paid for my crime…”

“She is dead, Jowan”, Wynne snapped. “Greagoir wanted to make her tranquil or send her off to the Aeonar, but Irving and I wanted her to have a fair chance. She deserved better.” Wynne’s voice turned thick as she continued. “She… I’m sorry. She did not survive the Harrowing”.

Jowan fell down on his knees. “Oh, no. No, no, no. My poor Lily”. He screamed. “What have I done? Why… Why didn’t you just send her away to another Circle?”.

Wynne turned away from the cell as if she couldn’t stand looking at him. “The Knight-Commander did not trust her. If she was so easy manipulated by you… Why not a demon?”.  

He looked up at them and dried away the few tears that had managed to escape him. He did not know what to say. What could one say?

“What happens now, Solona?”, he managed to croak after a while.

Solona crouched next to him, with the cell bars separating the childhood friends. “Are you responsible for what happened here?” A beat, and her voice softened. “Be honest, please”.

“I… I know it looks suspicious”. He swallowed. “But I was already imprisoned when all the creatures began to show up. At first, Lady Isolde came down here with her men and demanded me to reverse what I have done. I thought she meant my poisoning of the arl. She thought I’d summoned a demon to torment her family and destroy Redcliffe. She… had me tortured. There was nothing I could do or say that would appease her. So they… left me to rot. “

Alistair looked at him with a tensed jaw and closed fists. “And why did you poison Arl Eamon? What did you hope to gain?”, he wheezed.

“I was instructed by Teyrn Loghain. I was told that Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden, that if I dealt with him Loghain would settle matters with the Circle. All I wanted was to be able to… return. But he abandoned me here, didn’t he? Everything’s fallen apart; I never even thought it would end like this! Maker, I’ve made so many mistakes…”. He buried his face in his hands. “I wish I could fix things right. However,” he continued, eager to explain, “I made them trust me by offering to help train Connor in secret to teach him to handle – and hide, his magic abilities. Lady Isolde feared the Circle of Magi would take him away from her… Arl Eamon didn’t even know. I believe it is Connor that somehow… unintentionally, of course - by accident… have torn the Veil”. He sighed once more, and avoided the Senior Enchanter’s gaze and concentrated on Solona. “We were friends once, Solona. I know I don’t deserve to call you that, after what I’ve done. But please, if I and our friendship ever meant anything to you, help me fix this”.

“I helped you once”, Solona said weakly. He nodded, suddenly he seemed so very tired.

“And I betrayed you. And Lily. I’m sorry, so very sorry. More than words can describe". 

Solona searched the other wardens’ eyes. Alistair laid a hand on her shoulder and Elissa shrugged.

“This is your decision, Solona”, Elissa told her flatly.

“You shouldn’t trust him, my dear”, Wynne advised her. “He was prepared to send not only Lily, but you, to your death”.

“And I,” Morrigan chimed in, “see that he can be useful to us. But if not, then let him go. Why keep him a prisoner here?”

Leliana, who had been unusually quiet the last days, also expressed her opinion, “Both Sten and I know what it feels like to be imprisoned. I must agree with Morrigan. Let him free. He wishes to redeem himself. Everyone deserves a second chance”. Sten nodded. 

“Hey, hey. Let’s not forget he is a blood mage. You can’t just… set a blood mage free! And he poisoned Eamon…” Alistair paused and groaned. “But as Elissa said, it’s your decision. He is your friend and you know him best”. He gave her shoulder a light squeeze before he let down his hand.  

“Oh, Jowan”. Solona looked at him with tears in her eyes. “I just wish things were different. I can’t let them kill you. I know you’re one of the good, but you make it hard for me to remember it.” She unlocked his cell with magic and opened the door. “I’ll let you go, my friend. But please… Behave. If I ever learn that you’ve harmed anyone else, I will kill you myself.”

Jowan chuckled a little with tears in his eyes, and he hugged her.

"I mean it", Solona said a bit more firmly.

“I know, and I will make everything alright again, Solona. I will not let you down. I sincerely hope you’ll kill me if I hurt anyone… again”.

“Go now, Jowan”, Wynne urged sternly. “Go now before I do something I’ll regret.” Wynne balled her hand into a fist as she looked up at the ceiling, studying a spider without really seeing it. “I can’t even look at you”, she continued in an almost whisper.

“Yes, Senior Enchanter”. Jowan looked at the party. “Be careful”, he told them as he began to walk away into one of the many halls. Soon he disappeared into the shadows.

“You did the right thing, Solona”, Leliana reassured her while all of them stood quiet and looked into the dark corridor he’d gone.

Solona pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can only hope you are right”.

 

*

 

A dark voice boomed as the party stepped into Redcliffe Castle’s hall. “ **So these are our visitors? The ones you told me about, Mother**?”

Alistair had never seen Lady Isolde look so truly frightened, and Alistair himself shivered. The malicious voice had a boy as a vessel, and the unnatural sight even seemed to make Morrigan feel uneasy. A young child was simply just not supposed to have such a deep voice. Alistair's head spun. 

“Y-yes, Connor” Isolde stuttered, afraid to look at her son. Next to the boy sat Bann Teagan. He grinned wickedly at the visitors. What in the Maker's name was wrong with him? Alistair honestly did not want to know. Except, of course, from the fact that he did. The world was crazy.

“ **And this is the one who was with uncle Teagan?** ” The boy’s empty eyes stared straight at Elissa. She had sobered up pretty well, but not close to enough. She hoped that she hadn't anyway -- it felt like his gaze unveiled her soul. Connor continued. **“The one who you met at _my_  village? The one who slaughtered  _my_  men?**”

“Yes”. Isolde gave Elissa a quick, pained look before her eyes went back to the floor.

 “ **Ugh** ”, the boy spit on the ground. “ **And now it’s staring at me! What _is_  it, Mother? I can’t see well enough**”. He pointed at Elissa who couldn’t stop staring at the abomination before her.

“This… this is a woman, Connor. Just as I am”. Isolde looked at her boy, trying to see the son she loved, and not the demon that clearly possessed him.

“ **You lie!** ”, Connor shouted and clenched his small hands into fists. “ **This woman is nothing at all like you! Why, just look at her! She is half your age, and pretty too. I’m surprised you don’t order her executed in a fit of jealousy.** ” He laughed madly and Elissa swayed a little.

Isolde blanched. “Connor, I beg you! Please don’t hurt anyone”, she pleaded with tears in her eyes.

The boy’s features changed and a normal, young boy’s voice broke through. “Ma- mother? W-what’s happening? Where am I?” His eyes darted over the newcomers in front of him and his eyes were filled with terror and confusion.

Isolde fell down on her knees. “Thank the Maker! Connor, can you hear me?”

Connor’s face contorted and viciousness once again had a grip on him. “ **Get away from me, fool woman! You are beginning to bore me.** ”

Elissa took a step forward, trying to go as straight as possible. “So _he_  is the evil force you speak of…” Her voice was hoarse as she sought Isolde’s gaze.  _I need a drink if I am to deal with this._

Isolde flashed her eyes to Elissa and sobbed. “No! Don’t say that! He is my _son!_ ”

“So…” Morrigan said with a hand resting on her hip. “The boy has become an abomination and sundered the Veil.”

“Connor was just trying to help his father!” Isolde yelled in defense.

“And made a deal with a demon to do so?” Morrigan arched a brow. “Foolish child”.

 

Meanwhile, Wynne whispered to Solona; “We must enter the Fade to battle the demon. It is the only way to save the child”.

Solona discreetly poked Morrigan who turned around. “We need your help”, Solona said with a low voice. “Do you know how to send us and the demon in Connor’s body into the Fade?”.

Morrigan nodded. “I should be able to do what you ask. Do you have any lyrium, mage?” Morrigan looked at the older woman.

Wynne nodded and fished one up from a pocket. The boy focused on Elissa, and Wynne dared to slip her the bottle, saying; “Send us in”.

 

*

 

Elissa was startled and jumped a little when Connor’s, Solona’s and Wynne’s bodies suddenly got lifeless and fell down on the floor with an uncanny  _thud_.

“They are in the Fade battling the demon”, Morrigan explained to them, standing over Wynne's body. She looked at Isolde who kneeled next to her son, crying. “If they succeed, your son will live. If not…” she let the words hover and Isolde nodded.

She understood.

“Lady Isolde”, Leliana said in a soft tone, “can you be so kind and prepare some beds for them? I doubt it will be comfortable to wake up on a cold stone floor…”.

Isolde rose up and seemed relieved to have something to do. She did not wipe her wet cheeks, and Tegan, who seemed to have returned to his usual self, let his eyes flitter from the unconscious Connor to Isolde. 

“Teagan, can you carry Connor to his bed?", Isolde asked, relieved he was back to normal. "I will be there soon. I must make sure our dear guests have everything they need”.


	16. Chapter 16

Leliana sat by Wynne’s bed and Alistair by Solona’s, keeping a close eye on them. Alistair was tense. If anyone of them returned as abominations...

Luckily -- for Alistair (or so he thought), Solona and Wynne woke up a couple of hours later, just as Connor did a few rooms away. Isolde's cry of joy reverberated through the whole Castle Redcliffe.

The demon was defeated. He shared a short look with Leliana before he slid his sword under Solona's bed with his foot, as her and Wynne's eyes flittered open. Leliana nodded at him, reassuringly. She was not to reveal what he had been prepared to do. It would be their secret.

“Stupid sorceresses”, Alistair muttered, throat thick, failing with hiding the utter relief in his eyes. “You could at least have told us what you were attempting first!”

“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, wouldn’t it?” Solona snickered, despite her subtle headache and heavy lids. She turned her head towards her former mentor, first then speaking with a voice filled with worry, “How are you feeling, Wynne?”

“I’m feeling fine, thank you, dear girl”, Wynne answered with a small smile. “A bit tired, I have to admit.”

Solona nodded. “As am I. Ugh. Desire demons are the _worst_.” She winked to Leliana.  “You should have seen Wynne’s face as the demon tried to bargain with Wynne, promising her a pleasurable time she wouldn't forget”.

“Yes. Very tempting”, Wynne said dryly and she clicked with her tongue. “Do I really look that starving for intimate company?”

Solona grinned and Leliana shook her head, smiling broadly. It was hard to imagine the older mage falling for that. Alistair did not even want to try. “Gladly I didn’t have time to spend the offer any thought until Solona electrocuted the thing”. Wynne looked at the Orlesian next to her bed. “Oh, and have you been sitting here Leliana, waiting for us to wake up?”

“ _Oui,_ Wynne. You scared us when you just fell down on the floor. I thought Elissa was to have a heart attack”. Leliana chuckled as she remembered Elissa’s contorted face.

“Well, that was very kind of you, child. I must admit, I don’t like being in the Fade, not even when I dream“, Wynne admitted as she tried to change her position into a half-sitting one. 

It knocked lightly on the door and a blond, pretty young maid walked in. Solona remembered that it was the blacksmith’s daughter. What was her name again?

“Excuse me, warden”, she said and bowed nervously to Solona. “But I have a letter here, addressed to you”. She offered the letter to Solona who accepted it.

"Thank you… Valena”. Valena shone up at the fact that a guest to the arlessa remembered her name. Solona gave the girl a kind smile, and she received one in return before she excused herself. Solona assumed Isolde rather had her tend to Connor than them. 

The letter missed a wax seal, which was highly unusual. She opened it and Solona furrowed her brows as she read it. “It’s from Jowan”, she told her curious companions when she finished. “He says that if we want to cure the arl, we need to go to a Brother Ferdinand Genitivi in Denerim”.

“Oh, Jowan”, Wynne sighed and put a hand against her chest. “He has a good heart. It is a shame one can’t say the same about his brain”. A beat. “I will never forget poor Lily”. Wynne felt her chest twinge in guilt as she thought about the girl she sent into the Fade. Solona nodded and sniffled as tears burned in her eyes, knowing that her words would falter. Alistair took her hand, trying to comfort her. He was so kind, and she felt how she just wanted to curl up in his arms. She tried to shake away the feeling and gave him a faint smile. However kind Alistair was, he was only a friend. Thereto Solona refused to be one of the girls who ended up with the first man to show them any attention. And -- the third and maybe most important thing, she already had Cullen.

How come then he was the third thing she thought about, and not the first?

“You should go tell Elissa about this”, Solona said to him after she gathered herself. “And Wynne and I will join the dinner that’s served later. We just need to rest a little. To fight a demon in the Fade is… tiring”.

"And a sweet girl like you, Leliana, must have better things to do than to sit by an old lady’s bed. Off you go”. Wynne patted her arm.

“Are you sure?”, Leliana asked with narrowed brows. “I really don’t mind being here”.

“I am absolutely sure”, Wynne smiled assuringly. “I have Solona here, pestering me”.

“Hey!”. Solona folded her arms and mock-glared at Wynne.

Leliana chuckled. “Then I’ll leave, but I will come and check on you two later”.

Alistair stood by the door and held it open for Leliana as they both left. 

“I wish we could have seen Elissa’s face when we collapsed”, Solona laughed and Wynne nodded, smirking.

“It would have been a sight, indeed”.

 

*

 

Alistair found Elissa sparring with Sten out on the castle’s courtyard. She still had trouble with the injured leg, and Sten was not one who coddled. She grinned at Alistair when he went to them.

“I hope you will say something important, my warden-brother, so I can leave this battle with some honor,” she panted as she turned to him while playfully moving her sword in the air. “Sten is the best fighter I have ever met”.

“I am, warden”, Sten responded flatly. “But if you leave, it is I who wins”.

“That might be the case, but at least you won’t have the pleasure to see me face-first in the ground”, Elissa chuckled and wiped away sweat and dirt from her face. Alistair smiled.

“They all have woken up, and Wynne and Solona have been successful in defeating the demon. And…” he handed her the letter, “Jowan apparently told us we should go to Denerim to meet a Brother Genitivi. He apparently knows how to cure Eamon”.

Elissa nodded. “I am aware of who he is”. She skimmed through the letter. When she was done, she looked into Alistair’s eyes. “Then we should leave tomorrow”. Her eyes caught something behind his back and she hesitated. “… Maybe in two days. I must say that I have missed sleeping in a proper bed”.

Alistair turned his head and saw what – no,  _who_ , had caught her attention. It was the maid, Valena, who stood in a window looking at Elissa. She was quick to scurry away as she realized she had been spotted staring. He shook his head. He had to admit that he, too, enjoyed their temporary accommodation and one day more or less didn’t really matter. “I will tell the others that”.

“Great”. Elissa sheathed her sword. “Want to go with me to the tavern for a drink or two before I take a bath? The waitress there is delightful and she has the best cigarillos. Yeah. I think you’ll like her”. Elissa wiggled her eyebrows with twinkling eyes. Her features soured as she continued. “The landlord, on the other hand, is a prick. I should speak with Teagan about him”.

Alistair shrugged his shoulders. “Sure”, he said and waved a finger before her face, smiling. “But not more than a drink or two, this time”.

 

*

 

Valena let her knuckles rap lightly against the rough wood on Elissa's door. She swallowed, nervously. It was an honor Isolde had ordered her -- one of Isolde's personal maids -- to see to her guests' needs. That these guests were responsible for saving Redcliffe... Valena put her ear against the door and listened. She heard nothing from the room. Her chest swelled with pride. Her father would be delighted to hear that she had gotten the responsibility to see after their saviors. 

She was just about to leave when the door opened with a click. "Yes?", a drowsy voice said, and Valena pivoted around. Her face burned as she stared at Lady Cousland. 

"Um, hello, my lady", Valena spluttered and bowed. She almost dropped the bottles of oils, soaps, and towels. "Tula told me you had asked to have a bath prepared, and Lady Isolde said I was to serve you". 

Elissa quirked a brow, before she nodded slowly. "Yes, yes, Tula told me she would send for someone". Tula was the castle's head housemaid. A wan smile curled her lips. "Come in". Elissa walked back into the room and Valena hurried after. "I usually do not have a maid while I bathe", she confessed and Valena thought her face was to melt. 

"I-- I am sorry, my lady. I can leave, if you wish". She placed the bottles and towels and soaps on the side table next to the steamy tub.

Elissa only waved with her hand. "There is no need", she sighed. First now Valena hinted a weary undercurrent in her voice. "I would probably need help to get me out of the armor, anyway". Elissa looked at Valena over her shoulder. "Well?"

"Oh, sorry", Valena said and scurried to Elissa who stood still with her arms out, waiting for her to take off her armor. Valena no longer beamed with pride, and she wished she worked in the kitchen. She had no choice but to admit that she did not know how to remove it. Valena was prepared to be sent away, but Elissa only chuckled. She smelled of smoke, ale, and sweat, and Valena saw the lines of grime that followed her hairline. 

"I should have suspected that", Elissa said, mirth pushing away the fatigue in her tone. "I can not even picture Lady Isolde clad in armor". 

"I do not think she has ever worn one", Valena replied shyly. 

"She is lucky, then". A beat. "You should begin with that strap", Elissa instructed. 

It did not take long until Elissa stood naked before her. Valena gasped at the sight. Her trunk was covered in plum-colored bruises and gashes, and splashes of white and red scarrings decorated her. No wonder she had groaned when she had unfastened some of the clasps.  

Elissa moaned as she sunk down the bath. "This is heavenly", she exhaled as she leaned back her head. The whole room scented pleasantly of lavender. "Much better than the lukewarm water I have gotten used to lately". 

Valena placed a stool behind Elissa's head and sat down, with a comb in her hand. Slowly she undid her braid and began to untangle her hair, before combing it. Elissa grabbed the block of soap and began to rub her body clean of dirt. The water soon held the same color as the sky a gloomy day. 

"You saw me spar earlier, did you?", Elissa inquired and broke the silence. Valena was grateful she sat so that Elissa could not see her face.

"Yes, my lady", she answered meekly, and hoped the floor under her would collapse. Why was she never that lucky?

Elissa sounded amused. "Wynne would have scolded me for allowing you to call me that. Valena, was it? I am a Grey Warden, and as one, I renounced my noble birth the minute I joined the Order". 

"A Grey Warden?". Valena stilled her hands. "I thought they all --"

"Yes, all except Alistar, Solona and I. Do not worry -- Teagan and Isolde know. I think the word spreads like wildfire by now, that not all Grey Wardens has perished. Luckily for me... and for all of you". 

"Oh, of course, my lady... warden... um..."

Valena heard that Elissa smiled as she said, "When it is just us, you may call me Elissa. Out there, it is warden Cousland". 

"Oh", Valena repeated. "Elissa". 

The hearth crackled and Valena threw in another log. It was still damp, and the fire spluttered as it engulfed the material.

"Could you be so kind and hand me my pipe?". Elissa pointed at a bureau. "I think I put it on there". 

Valena watched as Elissa puffed on her pipe. It was an odd scene. Her head was tilted back with eyes closed. Her breasts and bruises almost not visible beneath the soap's foam and dark water. Plumes of smoke left her nostrils and lingered by the water's surface before dissolving. It reminded Valena of Lake Calenhad a misty morning. But the absolute oddest was that her stomach fluttered at the sight.

It was not the first time Valena had served someone who bathed; she did it regularly with Lady Isolde. But Isolde was, evidently, not Elissa. Valena blushed fervently. She had heard what the scullery maids had whispered about the Cousland. Wringing her hands, she looked out the window. It did not matter where she looked, really, as long as it was anywhere else but Elissa. The rumors from the kitchen stated Elissa was a... um, lady lover. The rumors from the laundry room said  the same. Valena had never met anyone like that before, or, not what she had known about anyway. 

She almost jumped when Elissa interrupted the quiet. The water sloshed as she changed her position, and Valena's eyes darted from the window to Elissa. She was watching her intensely. "You are free to open the window if the smoke disturbs you".

"No, my lady, it is quite fine", Valena spluttered and Elissa raised a brow. "Um, Elissa", she corrected herself.

"May you bring me a towel?", Elissa asked and the water splashed as she rose up. Drops of water trickled down her body, and Valena hurried to please Elissa's wish. Their fingers brushed as Elissa took it from her and wrapped it around her.

"Are you enjoying what you see?". 

"Huh?". It was first then Valena realized she had stared at her, and yet again, her skin adopted a crimson hue. Valena did like what she saw, that much was true. Elissa's scarred and battered body should have been unattractive -- the epitome of ugly imperfection, but it was not. Instead the markings highlighted the slender yet strong frame. Elissa's skin was covered in goosebumps, and her fingertips had pruned. "No!", she blurted defensively. "Or, yes, but...". Valena looked longingly at the door. Her salvation only a few meters away. But she could not just leave. What if Elissa told Isolde that and she got fired? She needed the salary, and did not wish to work out in the fields of ryott.  

"Come", Elissa said gently and reached out her hand. Valena stared at it, incredulously, and Elissa let it fall with an audible sigh. "May I be so blunt and ask you something, Valena?"

"Yes?"

"Am I right in assuming that there has been circulating some whispers about me?". Elissa did not sound angry, only tired. Valena dared to verify her question with a slight not. "I figured as much", she said. "If you do not want to help me oil my back, you do not have to. You have nothing to fear. I am not one of those who take advantage of the servants". 

"They said you seduced a lady-in-waiting", Valena murmured and Elissa stiffened. Her eyes had grown cold. 

"She worked for a family friend, and was with me out of her own free will. I have never forced anyone, Valena. And I will not force you, however beautiful you are". 

Valena swallowed. "Noo... I can oil you", she said after a long moment and grabbed a vial. Elissa nodded, her expression softer. 

Elissa stood still and gave her a long, indiscernible look. "Thank you".

Valena smiled there and then, a genuine smile. It was quite rare to be recognized for doing her work, and she admitted it felt good. Elissa threw herself on the bed, with the towel around her hips. Valena took a few drops of the oil on her palms, and rubbed her hands together before placing them on Elissa's skin. Elissa let out a quiet moan, and Valena bit the inside of her cheek so that she would not erupt in laughter. It did, however, not take long until Valena's will to laugh faded. She felt how Elissa melted under her hands.

"Thank you", Elissa said again, voice raspy, after the oil had been absorbed by her skin. "I will tell Isolde of your competence". Valena took a step back from the bed, her eyes downcast as Elissa flung around the bed. She now stared up the ceiling, on a spider web, which the servants had missed to remove. The towel was still wrapped around her hips. "Oh, Valena. I do not know what you think when you look at me, but whatever it is, I hope I have not made you feel uncomfortable". 

"You have not", Valena said, trembling. "I heard what happened to your family. I can not believe your whole house is...". Valena silenced. She had said too much... again. A flicker of sorrow passed Elissa's face. She could be whipped for her impudence. 

"Not only my house", Elissa then said. Valena let out a breath. "But Bann Loren's wife and son. And, the lady-in-waiting you spoke about".  

"Oh". Valena took a careful step forward, then another. She saw a droplet that trickled down Elissa's cheekbone, down to her ear. It could come from her wet hair but... Valena could not deny the truth. It was a tear. She had made Elissa, the woman Isolde had told her to serve, cry. Her stomach squirmed with guilt. Valena fell down on the edge of the bed. Elissa sat up, beside her.  

Valena's brows raised in surprise as Elissa's hand sought hers. But she did not pull away, instead, she let their hands intertwine. It did not feel awkward, and Valena was not sure how to respond to that. When Elissa slowly let her face closer to Valena, she stayed and waited. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and the butterflies in her stomach had returned. A pair of soft lips brushed hers, and she closed her eyes.

And kissed her back.

 

 

Elissa had dozed off when the dinner bell rang, and she pried her lids open. Valena still laid next to her, naked and delightful, looking at her with those wonderful doe-eyes of hers. 

"Are you still here?", Elissa asked, her voice heavy.

Valena eyes widened. "Oh, I shouldn't have?", she spluttered in the nervous way of hers, and Elissa smiled. 

"I did not say that, did I?", Elissa wondered and scooted closer. She placed another kiss on Valena's quivering lips. Her brows narrowed. "Valena...", she began, and for the first time ever, realized why Daryn made sure to talk to her about their age differences all those years ago. "Did I... Do you feel that I --".

"No", Valena said shyly, her eyes sparkling. No stable boy had ever given her the same attention that Elissa just had. "I let you, because I wanted to". The tip of Valena's ear grew scarlet, and Elissa exhaled in relief. "And honestly", Valena continued, not able to keep their eye contact, "I'm glad that I did". 

"Are you sure?"

"Elissa", Valena then said casually, almost as if she hadn't just a couple hours ago stammered 'my lady'. "You did not take advantage of me". 

"Good", Elissa mumbled, "because I enjoyed your company". She did not have the heart to tell her that it began as a way to numb the pain that threatened to choke her. 

The dinner bell rang now again, a second time. 

Valena smiled expectantly, hopefully. “I can come to you tonight, if you’d like, when the others have gone to sleep”.

Elissa let her fingers stroke the maid’s cheekbones.

“Are you certain? If you are... Then yes. I would love to”, she whispered and Valena chuckled, eyes sparkling.

“We must do something about your hair”, Valena stroked Elissa’s tousled hair, “before you can go and eat".

"And get me dressed", Elissa said dryly, as she swung her legs down the bed.

"And get you dressed", Valena agreed. "Isolde would be awfully envious of your form otherwise". 

 

*

 

Leliana felt down. Elissa had been avoiding her since she told her about the archdemon in the tent that night, and then Solona and Alistair told her about their failure to confrontation. Since then, Elissa didn’t even bother to look at her. Leliana balled her hand into a fist. The closest they had been was during the battle against the undead, where Elissa had saved her from a walking dead that had sneaked up behind her.

Leliana studied their two hosts. Lady Isolde and Bann Teagan were obviously irritated when Elissa came too late for dinner. Leliana was well-aware of the rules; one could be on time, one could be fashionably late, and one could be – simply – too late. By the looks from the noblemen, Elissa's entrance fitted the last category.

“I hope you approved of Valena, warden Cousland”, Lady Isolde said while a servant refilled her cup. “She is one of the best of my maids, and I thought a Teyrn’s daughter probably not is used to any less”.  

“She is… certainly living up to my expectations, my lady”, Elissa answered with a courtly smile. “I thank you greatly”.

Leliana looked down on her plate. Her appetite disappeared as she understood. And as if it wasn’t more apparent, Alistair leaned down to her ear and whispered; “First she told me we were going to leave for Denerim tomorrow, but when she saw the maid, she delayed the trip”. She almost cuffed him, despite knowing he was innocent. He didn't even know what had happened at that inn, so many nights ago. 

She could do nothing but forgive his comment, and send him a tight-lipped smile. 

The looks on her companions' faces told her that Alistair had said informed them of Elissa's change of plans as well. Wynne frowned, Solona looked embarrassed and avoided Leliana completely. Morrigan… well, she actually looked a bit amused. It was unsurprisingly.

Leliana didn’t understand Elissa. She unclenched and clenched her anew under the table. They had opened up for each other, they had  _talked_ , and still…

“So, you are also from Orlais, Leliana?” Isolde asked her. Leliana nodded and gave her a pleasant smile. Her fist was still clenched.

“I grew up in Val Royeaux, my lady, but my late mother was from Ferelden”.

“My deepest condolences for your loss.” Isolde got a concerned wrinkle between her brows.

“It was for a long time ago”, Leliana assured her. “But thank you”.  

“Val Royeaux”, the arlessa mused, sipping on her wine. “I grew up there as well. I have to say, that my marriage with Eamon stirred quite a lot of emotions within the nobility. It makes me wish that I had a Fereldan mother myself. King Maric was not fond of our union at all”. She smiled back at Leliana and she turned her gaze towards Elissa.

“You were at King Maric’s last birthday party, were you not, Your La – um, warden?”. The stern look from Wynne apparently even reminded Isolde of what title to use.

“I was, Lady Isolde. I actually remember seeing your husband and Bann Teagan there”, she nodded to Teagan, “but I fear we did not speak at that occasion.”

Isolde hummed. “If I remember correctly, it was that Marcher that arranged the gathering”, Isolde said wearing an almost too pleasant smile. “Do you happen to remember her name?”

Elissa answered her, now wearing a smile that matched the arlessa's. Leliana understood what this was - a duel with words rather than swords – not as eloquent as the Great Game, but a duel nevertheless. Both Elissa and Isolde were, after all, familiar with the Orlesian Game, even though neither of them was players.

“It seems like I do”, Elissa said, “I firmly believe it was Lady Lucille Trevelyan.”

“Yes, yes. Now I remember. She has two nieces, has she not? And you knew the oldest of them, did you?” Isolde casually played with her goblet’s foot.

“I knew her. My parents had business with her family, but it was a long time ago now. Much has changed”.

Bann Teagan cleared his throat. His eyes met with Leliana's, and he looked pained. It was, apparently, not the first martial dinner he had suffered. “Yes, much has changed. One could alm –-“

Isolde interrupted him; “She got married with a son belonging to a very pious and devoted family, did you know? Bowen, yes. House Bowen. She has three kids now, I believe. Oh, Ostwickers. How they love... their families”.

“Yes, but who does not love families, Lady Isolde?” Despite Elissa’s smile, Leliana saw that she tensed her jaw. Elissa had grown tired of their conversation. “Some could almost let their children wipe –-“

“Oh, this was delicious!”, Bann Teagan exclaimed in a try to interrupt the two women, and patted his stomach. He ignored Isolde's glare. "I must send the cook the best of compliments!". He let his eyes wander over their visitors, eager to find a new subject to talk about. “I can only imagine what you must have seen during your journey, dear guests. I would _love_ to hear your stories”.

The room fell silent. Teagan began to shift in his seat. Maybe he was not as good of a conversationalist he thought he was?

“I joined their quest after I was imprisoned for murder, and they freed me”, Sten said blandly after a while. The qunari looked at Elissa, and inclined his head. “I am honored to follow them against the Blight”.

“Yes… It is honorable indeed. An honorable cause”. Teagan cleared his throat with a puzzled face. “And what about you, Morrigan?”

Morrigan smirked and Leliana wanted to bury her head into her hands. She knew what the witch was about to say. “My mother found the three wardens dea -–“

“I can tell you our story so far”, Leliana chimed in and Solona sent her a grateful glance, and both Teagan and Isolde looked relieved. Leliana didn’t mind being the center of attention, and because of the situation with Elissa, she found herself in need of a distraction. She spoke, “The fifth Blight was on verge of the…”

 

*

 

They were about to leave Redcliffe for Denerim in the morning. Teagan was kind enough to lend them horses, which they greatly appreciated. Traveling would now be more effective, and Elissa was glad to not have to burden her leg as much.

She sat in the arl’s library when Leliana decided to break the silence between them.

“What are you reading?”, Leliana wondered and Elissa looked at her with a startled face. She hadn’t heard her enter. Leliana smirked to herself, glad she was not all that rusty. 

“I am trying to find out… eh, it does not matter. I did not find anything on the subject anyway. The arl has an impressive library, but it does not stand a chance against the one we had in Highever. My father collected on books of all genres – science, history…” Elissa closed the book she had been reading. The tremor in her hands made her stretch her fingers in frustration, but it didn’t stop them from shaking. She was in desperate need of more poppy, but Morrigan was reluctant with giving her more.

Leliana leaned her hip against the desk. She wore a simple robe, but knew that it graced her forms. She noticed that Elissa thought so too – her pupils dilated when she eyed her shape.

“I wish you spoke with me, Elissa. You isolate yourself from the others, from  _me_. You don’t need to be alone”. Leliana stretched out a hand to embrace Elissa’s, but the latter pulled away as if Leliana was made of ember. Leliana swallowed, a bit disheartened, but determined not to show Elissa that she was hurt. “We care about you.  _I_  care about you. I do not understand why you rather spend time with a maid than with me…”

“She is not only a maid”, Elissa hissed defensively as she put back the books on the shelves. “And at least she is not one to betray my trust.”

Leliana gritted her teeth. “You avoided me already before Alistair and Solona confronted you!”

Elissa had to force herself not to flash a smile. The Orlesian accent was yet again very prominent, and she enjoyed listening to the lilting voice. It was as if Leliana was about to burst out in a song. Well, a battle song, at least. 

“You are a beautiful, shrewd and kind woman, Leliana. I do not understand why you seem to want _me_ , of all people. You were a bard who once moved in Orlais’ society. You know I have nothing to offer you. Nothing.” Elissa placed herself in front of her. She was truly beautiful. Elissa couldn’t understand how those innocent eyes ever could have assassinated and seduced for information and money.

“Maybe…” Elissa said, knowing that it would hurt the woman, “you are obsessed with me because someone ordered you to. I know that bards are not much more than common whores.” Elissa let her index finger stroke Leliana’s chiseled features. “And you act like a whore, Leli. I wonder what kind of information you want from me?”. Elissa felt her heart ache when she saw those innocent eyes get filled with tears. What had she done -- and more importantly, was it worth it?

Yes, Elissa concluded. If it was what were required for Leliana to move on, it was. 

“You know that isn’t true”, Leliana said, her voice weak. “You just say that because you want to push me away. We  _connected_!”

Elissa steeled herself, and for a short moment, she closed her eyes. _Forgive me, Leliana. I do this for you, as much as I do it for me._

“Just as I connect with all women I have lain with? You are a bard, sweet. You should know these things. How to manipulate to get what you want”. Elissa looked out through the window and then back into her seething eyes. Leliana stared at her, with all the water of Lake Calenhad threatening to pour from her. 

“I have someone waiting for me in my bed, so I fear that I have to go”. Elissa leaned forward to kiss her wet cheek. Leliana stood absolutely still as her lips brushed her. Elissa closed her eyes anew, trying to suppress the pain that wanted to erupt from hers as well. The kiss tasted of salt and remorse. “I will see you in the morning”.

Leliana watched as Elissa left, and her knees buckled beneath her. She knew that Elissa had said that she made no promises. Leliana could understand that. But now she had said the most horrible, disrespectful things, and Leliana wondered if it was possible to rip out her own heart. 

 _How could she, of all people, be the one I gave myself to after two years in solitude?_ First Marjolaine, now Elissa...

Leliana grabbed the desk and heaved herself up. Slowly, she dragged herself to her chamber, avoiding the servants, where she fell down on her bed. She allowed herself to cry into slumber, too aware of what Elissa was doing just a couple of rooms away.


	17. Chapter 17

 Isolde, Teagan and Connor waved them off in the morning. Valena stood by the arlessa’s side and watched as the party rode away, her brows knitted.

“I haven’t forgotten about Goldanna”, Solona said to Alistair as they rode. “I promise we will go see her – first thing when we arrive in Denerim”.

Alistair smiled shyly. “Thank you, Solona. That means… very much to me”. He reached out a hand to help her control her horse. She still wasn’t a practiced equestrian, and neither was Morrigan. Elissa was not as chivalrous as Alistair, and laughed at Morrigan, even though she made sure to ride next to her if something were to happen.

“I would rather fly”, Morrigan muttered while she looked longingly at some chirping birds in the sky.

“But then I would miss your company, dear friend”, Elissa grinned. The grin expanded, and she decided to ponder a thought out loud, “Shapeshifter!", she called and received a glare, "I got an idea! As you know, I can not let go of the thought of riding you and since you --”

Elissa did not get the chance to finish her thought; Morrigan had glared at Elissa with her catlike eyes, and then the horse let out a shrill whinny when she transformed into a raven and simply flew away.

Alistair laughed at the stunned Elissa, who after a long moment, jumped down from the horse to collect Morrigan’s clothes that were scattered on the ground.

“Oh, how she does not know how to let down a woman gently”, she sighed dramatically and put her hand against her heart.

Leliana, who had heard the whole exchange, could no longer be quiet and snorted. Elissa’s grin faded at the sound.

First then, Wynne took a long look at Leliana. It did not escape her that Leliana’s eyes were swollen. Another glance at Elissa, who had guilt etched in her face, made Wynne promise herself to talk with Leliana when they were to set up a camp for the evening.

 

*

 

Sten, Elissa, and Truce had left the campsite to scout the area. Morrigan sat, as usual, by her own fire, reading. The rest of the group sat together and talked. Wynne had been kind enough to cook again, which made the group’s morale higher. She was with no doubt the most skilled cook among them.

“I can’t wait to visit Denerim!” Solona almost shouted expectantly as she clapped her hands. Wynne chuckled at the younger mage’s enthusiasm.

“I am afraid you will be disappointed, child. The city is dirty and overcrowded”.

Leliana nodded in agreement with the Senior Enchanter and added, “If you’re not in the more expensive areas, at least”.

Alistair arched a brow. “So you have been there, as well?” 

Leliana blushed and nodded. “Before Lothering, I lived there for a short while”, she admitted, hoping not to get any further questions.

“Ah". Alistair did not sound overly interested. "I can give you a tour, depending on how much I remember”, Alistair said, his attention turned to Solona. “I have a feeling you will love the botanical garden”. Solona’s eyes gleamed, and it spurred Alistair to continue further. “And we should not forget about the library. It even has a section with magic… even though it’s scarce. I believe they still have a quite big herbology section”.

“And we can buy spices at the market!” Leliana chimed in, infected by Solona’s enthusiasm. “Your cooking is excellent, Wynne, but I have to admit I miss a few Orlesian dishes”. She sent Wynne a saccharine smile.

Wynne smiled understandingly back to her. “Yes, from what I’ve heard, Fereldan and Free Marcher dishes are rather bland in comparison with other countries’”.

“At least we’re not as bad as the qunaris’”, Alistair added with a frown. Sten had told them he didn’t even have to cook what he was to eat. Solona sniggered at his remark, and Wynne glanced at Leliana. Was this her chance? She decided to try.

“Leliana…”, she began, treading carefully, and Leliana looked at her with a wondering look and a slightly tilted head.

“ _Oui_?”

“Excuse me for what I’m about to ask”, she said. “But has something happened between you and Elissa? I… I had the impression you were friends back at the Circle, and now you don’t speak with one another”. Her voice was soft and Leliana felt how her cheeks burned with shame. She was a bard, for Maker's sake, and she should have hidden it better. Still, the thought that someone cared about her – noticed her – was warming and she sniffled.

Solona noticed the abrupt shifting in emotions and immediately hugged her. “What is it, Leliana?”, she asked, stroking Leliana’s hair. “You can tell us everything. We might be able to help”.

“I have hidden something from you”, she sobbed, her body shivering. “But I’m afraid you will hate me when I tell you”.

Solona shook her head. “I could  _never_  hate you, Leliana”, she reassured her.

“Never say never”, she said with a pale smile. “Elissa knows this already, but she said she wouldn’t tell anyone. Oh, how I don’t know how to say this…” She paused and took a deep breath. “In Orlais, I was a bard…”

Solona looked questioningly to Alistair who shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what a bard was. It was only Wynne who understood and she let out a small sigh.  _Dear girl_. Leliana noticed the wardens’ wondering looks. “It’s a… kind of spy”. She couldn’t tell them straight out that bards also assassinated for a living. “And a colleague of mine lied to me and betrayed me, and made sure I was imprisoned for a crime I didn’t commit”.

Solona nodded slowly. She now remembered that Leliana mentioned, when they met Jowan in Redcliffe’s dungeon, that she knew what it was like to be imprisoned. Solona thought at the time that it was not more than a metaphor.

“But a revered mother helped me escape,”, Leliana continued with tears slowly falling down her cheeks, “and I ended up in Lothering’s chantry. Far away from Orlais, and as a new person”.

Alistair rubbed his neck, not sure what to say. “We don’t think any less of you, Leliana”, he blurted after a while, “Just look at Sten! He murdered children, and we like him… kind of”. He blushed and Leliana couldn’t help but chuckle a little through her tears and Frost, who’d just woken up, nudged her knee worriedly. "It was a bad example, maybe", he said apologetically. 

“And what has Elissa to do with this?” Wynne asked, trying to figure out how the warden had anything to do with Leliana’s former life. Leliana petted the mabari before gently pushing her away. She stiffened at Wynne's question, and Solona, who now stroked Leliana’s upper arm, did as well. “She… I can… She just doesn’t trust me, that’s all. She questioned my intentions to be here last night. And she was pretty… harsh, when she did”. Leliana hung her head and pinched her nose before wiping her cheeks.

Wynne shook her head. “I do not like that woman at all. I can’t understand why you two insist on dragging her along”, she said looking at Alistair and Solona. “It is clear she doesn’t want to be here. And isn’t it typical she  _used_  that pleasant maid for her own --”

Solona interrupted her. “Wynne, stop. She  _is_  important, and even if she isn’t always very… charming, she isn’t… you know, _evil_. I doubt the maid was forced into doing something she didn’t want.” Leliana sniffled again and Solona’s eyes sought Leliana’s. “What did she say more, Leliana?”, she wondered softly.

“She…” Leliana’s neck reddened. It felt as if it would sound stupid now, out of context. “She sort of called me a… uh, I think the words were something in line with 'spying whore'…”.

Solona snorted. “Well, that  _was_  an evil thing to do”. Wynne nodded and mumbled something inaudible.

Alistair rose up and kicked on the log. “Maybe we should try to talk with her again”, he murmured.

Solona leaned her chin against her hand, muttering; “She will probably just kick us out again and behave even worse”.

“She will listen to me”, Morrigan said indifferently and looked up from her book. “You are certainly no good schemers. I will be surprised if those villagers back at Redcliffe didn’t hear you. However, even if I support her in not trusting a  _bard_ ”, her voice grew cold and she narrowed her eyes while glaring at Leliana, “her behavior has slightly altered to the worse. I suspect it is because of the poppy and whatever else she can find. You do well in remember that she has lost  _everyone_  she loved not long ago. Believe me when I say that love is a weakness, and she has loved a lot”. Morrigan looked back down into her book as if she hadn’t uttered a word, and in the distance, they heard Truce bark. Frost greeted him with a howl.

The party sat in tense silence when Sten, Elissa, and Truce entered the camp. Sten, who as always didn’t seem to care or notice, went straight to his tent while Elissa slowly eyed them. She rested on Leliana’s tear-filled eyes and understood then the judging gazes the others sent at her. A muscle in her jaw twitched as she clenched it, and she turned her steps to Morrigan’s camp-away-from-camp.

“Before you ask – yes, they have been talking about you”, Morrigan said flatly when Elissa sat down beside her, still reading. Elissa sighed.

“Well, I guess I deserve it. I am happy that I at least have you and Sten at my side”, she tried to chuckle, “even if it only is because you both want something from me”.

Morrigan closed her book and seemed genuinely curious, not even denying what Elissa had said. “And what does Sten want?”. 

“His  _Asala_ ”, Elissa answered, knowing it didn’t say her much. Truce whined and Morrigan glared irritated at the hound.

“Yes, Truce, you may go to Frost and play”, Elissa told the mabari who barked happily and ran away to the other dog.

“Asala?” Morrigan arched a questioning brow.

“Yes, Asala. But I am not going to tell you anything more. I better keep things hidden if they are not to leave me behind”, Elissa muttered and pointedly tilted her head in the others’ direction.

“Bah. Self-pity certainly doesn’t suit you”. Morrigan leaned forward, so her face was close to Elissa’s. “You look truly awful”.

“Thank you”, Elissa answered dryly. “Maybe the thought of killing your mother does that to a person”.

“Fair point, warden.” She sat silent for a moment. “If you have trouble sleeping, you are welcome to sleep in my tent. If you snore, I’ll simply sleep elsewhere”.

“With clothes on or off?” Elissa grinned. Morrigan gave her a ghost of a smile.

“I am not prude, Elissa, and even if I  _greatly_  enjoy you staring at me lustfully, you better keep your hands off”.

Elissa chuckled. “Yes, I will not forget how eager you were to cut my leg off. Oh, Morrigan. I would let down so many women if I was without hands”. She pouted her lips.

“… Or maybe the opposite”. Morrigan sounded serious again and threw a meaning glance towards the bard who now seemed to entertain the others with a story.

Elissa looked down on the ground, cheeks burning in shame. She rubbed her forehead and looked back at her, eyes hopeful. “Do you mean it? That I may sleep in your tent?” Her voice was weaker than usual.

“Yes, if you promise not to cry yourself to sleep”.

Elissa gave Morrigan a small smile. “You know I do not do promises”.

 

*

 

Morrigan was exhausted. Elissa didn’t snore, but several times almost every night she woke up either screaming, gasping, or weeping. It was like being a babysitter anew. It had gone so long she even contemplated putting her under a sleeping spell without her permission. When she had asked Elissa about it, the warden had only shaken her head. “If darkspawn are around, I must be able to wake up on my own”.

One early morning, when she and Solona shared the same shift, Morrigan even asked Solona if she and Alistair had the same problems.

“No,” Solona had answered slowly, mulling her question. “We sometimes have nightmares, yes, but not every night. I’ve only had it a handful of times. Alistair told me that some people are more sensitive than others”.

At least, Elissa had stopped drinking poppy juice, and instead, she puffed more on her pipe to still the tremor and angst the abstinence caused.

“Morrigan”, she said a couple of evenings ago when they sat in front of Morrigan’s campfire. “When we get back to Redcliffe and we have saved the arl, I will try to kill Flemeth”. She exhaled a whole row of smoke rings; “But if I fail, what will happen to you?”

“She will kill me and take over my body”, Morrigan answered honestly, trying to keep her voice level. The new knowledge the grimoire from the Ferelden’s Circle of Magi had brought her was frightening -- even to her, and she was not used to the feeling.

Elissa sat quietly for a while, thinking, until she suddenly sniggered.

“What? Do you find that amusing?”, Morrigan wondered and furrowed her brows. Her voice dripped with poison, and Elissa was glad words didn’t kill… unless they were spells, anyway.

“No, not at all. I just realized  _why_  you let me terrorize you every night. You want me to be in a good shape for that occasion, because what is a month or two of sleep depravity, against dying young? Ah." A pause. "It is good to know where I have you, my friend”. Elissa fell quiet again and returned to puff on her pipe, not expecting Morrigan to reply.

She didn't.

  
*

 

Now they again had set up a camp for the night, and Elissa and Morrigan sparred. Elissa’s leg was almost fully restored, and with the help of her shield and acrobatics, she succeeded in avoiding the witch’s fireballs. Morrigan’s eyes glimmered with sly mischief, and she sent a bolt of lightning which Elissa reflexively tried to avert with her shield.

It was indeed a big mistake, she realized when the spasms finally ended and she lay flat on the ground, her body sore. Morrigan laughed when she went to her and offered her a hand to get up. Elissa gave her a smirk, still a bit affected. “I  _certainly_  do not want to be on your naughty list, sorceress”.

“Then you aren’t as stupid as I first expected”, Morrigan responded as Elissa grabbed her hand. She sent a slight spark of electricity down the warden’s arm and laughed when the other’s hand cramped. “Imagine that this is what one on my good side receives”.

“Ouch”, Elissa panted, groaning while massaging her arm. “I think I rather get up on my own.” She grinned and Morrigan rolled her eyes.

Morrigan knew her well enough to surmise what Elissa was about to say. “I bet you could surprise me quite pleasantly with those hands tonight, if you just tone down the voltage… a tiny bit”.

“I didn’t know you liked it rough”, Morrigan answered evenly and watched as her sparring partner stood up and brushed off the dirt from her pants.

“Well,” Elissa said with a pouting lip, “that is because you never let me show you!”

Solona yelled to them from the other side of the camp. “Alistair wants to try a new, exotic recipe, so you better want to prepare something yourselves if you don’t want to starve!”.

“Exotic? What kind of exotic?” Elissa yelled back, hands cupped around her mouth.

“The  _bad_  kind!”

“Hey! That wasn’t very nice” Alistair clucked as he prepared some meat Solona, Leliana and Frost had hunted earlier that day. “I swear to you, this  _is_ good. Duncan showed me this”.

Wynne wrinkled her nose as she watched Alistair and opened her mouth to speak. “Are you not supposed to – oh, well, I let you do what you want”.

Elissa jogged up to Alistair. “Are you up for some sparring later? I would like to fight someone who does not enjoy electrocuting me”.

Alistair nodded, focused on his cooking. “Sure”, he said, “but only if you prepare to get your ass kicked for a second time in one day”.

Elissa chuckled. “Right”, she drawled and winked to Solona. For a split second, she happened to meet Leliana’s gaze and she quickly averted her eyes. “Ehm”, she cleared her throat and straightened her back, “I think I will go and check the area”. She tried to ignore Leliana who still looked at her, and sought instead the qunari’s gaze. “The Sten, do you want to come with me and Truce?”.

Sten shook his head. “Not now,  _kadan_ ”. Sten had begun calling her that since she agreed to help him find his  _Asala._

“Alright, mighty warrior,” Elissa said, shrugging her shoulders. She whistled for her Truce who came up to her, running. “Come, my boy”, she purred to him who waved his tail. Elissa scratched him behind his only ear.

As the duo walked away from the camp, Leliana watched as Elissa picked up a stick and threw it away. The mabari ran after it barking, happy that his mistress played with him. It did not take long until they had disappeared among the trees.

The party ate of Alistair’s food - even Morrigan who claimed she had nothing to cook, and none of them showed any signs of food poisoning, which made Alistair feel confident.

“It wasn’t so bad, huh?” he said proudly when all had eaten.

“It is what was available”, Wynne responded wearing a small smile. “But it is better than it was last time”.

Alistair’s shoulders drooped and Solona felt sorry for him. “It was eatable”, she cooed and patted his shoulder.

He groaned and rubbed his face. “I really tried”, he muttered.

“Elissa… She should be back by now”, Leliana looked worriedly at her companions and bit her lip. “She has been away longer than usual”.

“So the bard does keep track of some things, after all?” Morrigan countered and left them for her own camp. Leliana felt a dash of both ire and envy. She really had tried to hate Elissa after what she said at Redcliffe, she  _had_ , but no, it was the witch she loathed. Not only did Elissa prefer a  _maid’s_  company, but she even chose to be with Morrigan – of all people! – instead of herself.  
Solona leaned her head against Leliana’s shoulder, and her voice was soft and gentle as it almost always was. “Ignore her, Leliana.”

When another couple of hours had passed, the whole group started to seem concerned about Elissa’s whereabouts. Leliana felt as if a stone dropped from her heart as she heard Truce’s howl in the distance. Frost responded to the other hound, and after a couple of minutes, she and the rest of the group in the half-dark could see the mabari come out from the trees. He limped to them with his tongue hanging outside his mouth, and Solona sensed that something was amiss.

“Truce!” she shouted and the dog hurried towards them, the limp more prominent. When he was closer to their fire, they saw that his fur was covered in blood.

“Where’s Elissa?” Solona asked the dog who whined and looked back the way he came from.

Wynne examined the dog’s body. “It looks like a stab wound”, she mumbled and let a blue flow seal the lesion on the mabari’s thigh. Wynne turned a worried look to the others. “I sense something in his bloodstream. I believe it is poison”.

Morrigan, who always expressed how dirty and malodorous Truce was, surprised them by running up to him and examining him herself. She carefully stroked his head after she was done, seeking the Senior Enchanter’s eyes. “Poison?” she asked Wynne with a sharp voice and knitted eyebrows. “What kind of poison?”

“I… I do not know”.

Alistair scowled and Sten, who deeply cared for the hound, hurried to pull on his armor. Leliana ran to her tent and brought her bow, arrows, and daggers. Solona picked up her staff and Morrigan followed suit.

“Can he lead us the way?”, Solona asked Wynne who first shook her head.

“He could, but then the poison will spread faster”, she answered. “But on the other hand”, she said after a split second of thinking, “If we manage to find the assailant, we might easier figure out what kind of poison that was used.”

Solona looked to Morrigan who nodded. “Truce,” Morrigan said in a gentle tone none of them earlier had heard her use, “lead us to Elissa”. The mabari whimpered, but began to walk back into the forest. Every now and then he stopped and looked back over his shoulder to make sure they followed him.

Wynne was the only left at camp; someone needed to guard their things, and she was more than competent. At least that is what Wynne was told.

After almost an hour's walk, Leliana signaled to the others to be quiet when shouting and laughter was heard. She crouched and walked with silent footfalls. What she saw when she hid behind a bush made her heart skip a beat.

A woman was tied to a wagon, and men with Antivan accents laughed at the sorry figure as one of them kicked her jaw which made a shattering sound. “Where are they, Grey Warden?” The woman – Elissa, Leliana realized - spit dark blood in one of the men’s direction and the elven man in front of her sighed.

“That was terribly rude, my friend”. He turned around to his companions. “Do whatever you like until she talks”.

Leliana noticed the man’s facial tattoo, and her heart dropped. They were Antivan Crows _._ Then the poison could be Crow Poison. Leliana hoped that Wynne and Morrigan had the ingredients required to make an antidote.

Elissa wailed and coughed as one man crouched next to her. It was impossible for Leliana to see what he was doing. She sneaked back to the others. “Seven men”, she whispered. She wasn’t sure of how they were to approach. Sten was a great warrior, but the Crows were fast and they fought as if it were a dance. “And I believe they are Antivan Crows”, she continued to tell them. “I… I don’t know how to outmaneuver them”. Her voice dripped of desperation as Elissa’s screams increased.

Solona decided to step forward, remembering the strategies and tactics Elissa often used. “Leliana, can you climb up that tree?” she said and pointed at one with a view over the Crows’ camp. “Morrigan and I should be able to stun them, and when we have done that,” Solona looked at the hounds and the two men, “you four should be able to deal the last blow”. Solona turned her eyes back to Leliana. “Did you see if they have a leader?”.

Leliana nodded with her often calm ocean eyes storming. “An elven man with blond, long hair and a facial tattoo”.

“Try not to kill him”, Solona decided. Her palms were clammy with sweat. Even Morrigan winced as Elissa let out another scream –- a scream that ended abruptly.

They couldn’t delay any longer.

“Now!” Solona whispered to Leliana who, smooth as a cat, climbed up the tree and slowly took the longbow from her back and nocked an arrow, pointed at one of the men. She was ready to let the string sing its fatal song. 

Solona took a deep breath as she and Morrigan raised their staffs in unison. “Are you ready?”

Morrigan merely nodded, and the two mages sneaked up to a bush. They crouched and Solona counted to three. Side by side they jumped out from their hiding and immediately stunned three of the Crows. Morrigan swiftly scanned the area after the last one – when she found him she shot a spell at him, freezing him. Behind the two mages, the mabaris and Alistair and Sten hopped out with a battle cry.

“ _Nehraa kadan_!” Sten shouted as he charged forward.

At the sight of the two warriors, Leliana decided to send her first arrow. It pierced one of the men’s chests, and he fell down on the ground with a gurgling sound. He died quickly.

Too quickly _._

Morrigan whispered, and her staff vibrated as it charged an orb of fire. With a flick of her wrist, she set one man on fire. Her heart burned furiously as he screamed while the flames melted his skin.

While the four warriors killed each one of the stunned Crows, Leliana sent another arrow through the leader’s shoulder. She forced herself not to send another through his throat. The man moaned and slowly fell down on his knees, clasping his shoulder before breaking the arrow. When the four stunned men finally lay dead on the ground, Sten decided to go after the leader. Upon arrival, Sten kicked him in the temple with such force that the elven man went unconscious.

Leliana jumped down from the tree and ran to Elissa. Panting, she put two fingers on her bloodstained neck, trying to find a pulse.

“Her… Her heart is not beating!” she screamed, voice shrill with panic. Morrigan immediately was by her side.

“Back off, bard”, she hissed as she put her hands on Elissa's chest. Her fingers sparked up in three short rounds, the air that surrounded them smelled of ozone; a sweet, pungent zing that filled their nostrils. Elissa’s body cramped while the electricity flew in her body. Morrigan checked her pulse again, and an exhale of relief left her parted lips. “’Tis weak, but present”, she mumbled, stroking her cheek almost tenderly. Truce ran to his mistress and nudged her limp arm with his head. Solona crouched next to them and investigated her.

“I can seal some of the minor wounds, but we  _really_  need Wynne. She has internal damage, and…” Solona swallowed as she inspected Elissa’s right, dominant hand. She rose up and stole some cloth from the dead men’s clothes and tried to bandage the worst gashes she wasn’t able to heal.

“Sten!” Solona shouted and he walked up to them. “Can you carry Elissa back to the camp? We need to get there quickly. Alistair and I can carry the… elf”. She spat the last word.

Leliana carefully loosened the rope that tied Elissa to the wagon, and Sten gently lifted her up, with one arm under the bend of her knees and the other around her shoulders.

Morrigan went next to Sten and Elissa, regularly checking her pulse. The Sten murmured the same words he had chanted when the group first encountered him;

“ _Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra_ ”.

The Qunari Prayers for the Dead.

 

*

 

Morrigan had to restart Elissa’s heart twice more on the way up to the camp. “She has lost a lot of blood”, she stated looking at Solona. The former Circle mage knew what the witch’s questioning eyes wondered. Has she lost  _too_  much?

When they arrived at the camp, Alistair took initiative and tied the Crow to a tree.

Wynne gasped as she noticed the arriving group, and ran as fast as she could with her aching joints to meet them halfway. She had a thousand questions stirring in her head when she saw Sten carry Elissa lifeless body, but her practicality took overhand.

“Lay her in my tent”, Wynne commanded, voice stern. She looked at her other companions, trying to estimate their damage. “Is anyone else hurt?”. They shook their heads.

Leliana's eyes flittered between Morrigan and Wynne. “I think I know what poison was used, and more importantly, I know the antidote”. She rubbed her bloodstained forehead in distress, trying to gather her thoughts. Morrigan wordlessly dragged Leliana to her camp, so they together could prepare the antidote.

“I can heal the wounds and the internal damages”, Wynne told Solona as they lay Elissa on Wynne’s bedroll in her tent. Wynne carved up her sleeves and studied Elissa’s stab wounds on her abdomen. “But she has lost a lot of blood, and I… I don’t know her blood type. It is only Alistair and Solona that can donate blood because of the taint, and… I can’t risk it if they are not compatible”.  Elissa’s pulse was weak and her breaths shallow and ragged.

Wynne picked up the woman’s right hand. It bled from where the little finger was supposed to be, and a dagger had punctured the hand. “If her sword hand’s nerves are damaged…” She let the words hover. Elissa was one of the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden, and if she couldn’t fight…

“Do your best, Wynne”. Solona said hoarsely and squeezed her shoulder. “It is not you who are to blame if it does not work”.

Wynne gave Solona a quick glance. Solona could not decipher her visage. “You need to go tell Morrigan and Leliana that they must make an antidote for her too. Now”.

Solona swallowed as she saw now knew the look on her former mentor’s face. Fear. Trembling, she rose up and left the humid tent. The brisk breeze filled her nostrils and cleansed away the smell of sweat and metal. She spotted the two women outside Morrigan’s tent, and she hurried to them.

They barely looked up from their preparations as Solona closed in on them. Solona pinched her nose repeatedly before she was able to speak. “Elissa, uh”, she cleared her throat and tried not to speak high-pitched, “she needs the antidote as well”.

Leliana met her eyes, and her of stress slightly reddened face blanched. “But… we don’t have enough for both of them”. The poison had begun to affect the mabari. The trip back to Elissa and the fighting had taken a toll on him. He lay flat on the ground next to Morrigan and growled tiredly when Solona crouched down next to him. Not even Frost was allowed to come near.

“Wake up the Crow!” Leliana shouted to Alistair. Tears brimmed her eyes, and her voice was close to breaking. She couldn’t stand to see the innocent, loving dog suffer. “He  _must_  have some antidote somewhere”. Her voice now cracked and Alistair went to the elven Crow.

“How am I supposed to wake him up?” His voice was desperate, and he shook the limp man that still was tied to the tree. He didn’t move a muscle. “He is still unconscious”, Alistair alerted them, running a hand through his hair.

“We must give the antidote to Elissa  _now_ ”, Morrigan whispered to Solona.

“She will  _kill_  us if we let him die”, Solona answered. Her temples pulsated. 

Leliana sniffled as she sat down on the ground, close yet far away from the dog that shifted between whimpering and growling.  

“And if we don’t”, Morrigan snapped, “Elissa won’t be able to kill us because _she_ will be dead”.

Solona saw how the group was on the verge of breaking down. She could not allow it to happen. In a fit of self-preservation, she took command once again -- she had to do something. “Sten”, she said curtly. “Bring Truce to Elissa’s side”.

The Sten nodded and did as she said, ignoring the hound’s protests while mildly lifting him from the ground.

Solona locked her eyes with Morrigan’s. “Morrigan, bring the antidote to Wynne, and if you need help making an ointment or salve, Leliana and I are here for you. We... are in this together”.

 

*

 

Several hours later an exhausted Wynne left the tent, wringing her blood-covered hands. “There’s nothing more I can do”, she said with a worn voice. She hung her head in defeat. The rest of the companions sat by the fire; Solona slumbered in Alistair’s embrace while Sten kept an eye on the Crow that still hadn’t moved a muscle.

Truce let out a pained howl from within the tent. “She is as stable she can get in her condition”, Wynne reported as she sat down on one of the logs, “but Truce… He will soon fall into unconsciousness. Nevertheless, the state he is in…”. She paused. “He is in enormous pain. The poison is killing him slowly. I tried to put a sleeping spell on him, but he didn’t let me near…”

Morrigan rose up and nodded, a rigid motion. “I’ll do it”, she offered flatly. With determined steps she went and lifted the tent flap, entering the small, damp tent. A lonely candle flickered in a corner and shone on Truce that lay by Elissa’s side. He didn’t have the energy to lift his head, and she sat fell down on the ground next to them and sighed heavily.

Truce whimpered and tried to wave his tail to welcome the sorceress. Morrigan didn’t understand why, but somehow the mabari had accepted her just as his mistress had done during their journey. She decided to lay down on the ground, so Truce was in the middle between the two humans. Slowly, Morrigan lifted one of her hands and put it on the dog’s warm back. His coat was rough against her palm.  He let out a deep growl from the touch, but it soon faded into a helpless whine.

Elissa’s chest rose and sank in line with her breaths that were raspy, rapid and shallow. The antidote that now ran in her veins challenged the poison that tried to devour her.

The same poison that slowly annihilated her best friend and last family member.

Truce’s eyes were half-lidded, his brown eyes filled with gentleness, loyalty and... pain, she realized. Morrigan silently began chanting the sleeping spell as if it was a lullaby, and Truce seemed to understand what was happening. With his last strength he fought against the spell, not wanting to leave his mistress’ side, and his only ear was alert on his surroundings.

But not even the strongest warrior could stand against magic without lyrium in his bloodstream. Soon, the ear hanged down and his whines and wailings silenced, and all that was left was his heavy breaths. He gave up, and Morrigan knew that his internal organs shortly would fail.

Morrigan turned her eyes to Elissa. Elissa’s skin was clammy – her hair glued onto her skin, and the sweat beads on her forehead and collarbone glimmered in the candlelight. A plaid covered her bruised, bandaged and bloodstained body. Elissa’s jaw was swollen and red – Morrigan assumed that Wynne had fixed so it at least no longer was broken.

Truce breathed periodically now; he was close to death. Morrigan felt how pain and sorrow lanced her heart; tore open her chest. With shaking hands, she touched her cheeks and recognized the warm liquid that ran down them for tears.

She was crying - crying for the first time since she was a wee child. The love between Truce and Elissa was pure, and she found it beautiful instead of weak. She changed her sitting position to a kneeling one next to her only friends and let the tears flow down her cheeks, not trying to silence them.

She untied her hair, letting it fall down from its knot, and carefully kissed the dog’s head, as if she tried not to hurt him. He looked peaceful, wrapped into the sleeping bliss next to the one he loved more than life itself. Morrigan slowly rose up and gave them one last glance before she exited the tent.

She stumbled as she stepped out and her companions looked at her with something that resembled shock in their eyes – they had never seen her in a state remotely close to the one she now was in. Leliana quickly rose up and hurried to her side, supporting her, holding her so she wouldn’t fall. They stood like that, looking at each other, their usual distaste for the another gone.

Both of them were crying for their comrades. After a few minutes, Morrigan shivered and pulled away from her. With a pained expression, she let the aura of magic surround her being, and she transformed into a raven. This time she didn’t look back, and she flew away from the source of her sadness.

Leliana watched Morrigan disappear into the moonlit sky and felt a calming hand wrap around hers. She turned around and saw that it was Solona who’d stepped to her side. Her warm eyes comforted her.

“Do you want to go and say farewell to him with us?”, Solona wondered softly as she gave Leliana’s hand a light squeeze. Frost let a raspy howl escape her throat and Leliana nodded slowly, afraid that her voice would betray her. Solona held the tent flap up, letting her hound and Leliana walk in first. It was as if they entered a warm wall that smelled of herbs and blood. Frost walked towards the sleeping dog and sniffed on him, wailing. She knew something was terribly wrong.

Both women kneeled next to the ill warden and her dying friend. Solona lit a candle she’d brought and held it with both her hands as Leliana put her palms together. Through her slow-falling tears, the former bard began to sing with a cracked voice;

“ _The Light shall lead her safely_

_Through the paths of this world, and into the next._

_For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water._

_As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,_

_She should see fire and go towards Light._

_The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,_

_And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker_

_Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword._ ”

Truce took his last breath, and when his heart stopped beating, he let out a heavy sigh.

He was done fighting.


	18. Chapter 18

The Antivan Crow tilted his head, warily studying his audience with a wan smirk. He had been in worse situations, but despite that, he knew this could be his last moments. He had to play his cards right.

“I rather thought I would wake up dead”, he groaned, wishing he could massage his throbbing temple that probably was both bruised and swelled. “Or not at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven’t killed me yet”. He eyed the rope that had him tied to a tree. He hated trees.He stifled a stated sigh, knowing he would have to break more than his thumbs to get out of the knot. _But I certainly don’t hate being tied up. Too bad this isn’t a very pleasurable moment._

“That could be easily rectified”, Morrigan said with a tone that dripped with disdain. She leaned casually against her staff, prepared to end the man’s life if Solona only were to look away for a split second. She mulled about the endless possibilities to kill him, just as he killed Truce and stopped Elissa’s heart. His death, Morrigan decided, had to be most painful. He would not go out easy.

“Of that, I have no doubt”, the elf responded in a thick, Antivan accent. “If you haven’t killed me, you must have kept me alive for a purpose, yes?”

Alistair snorted as he glared at him with folded arms. He felt the familiar weight of his sheathed sword on his hip. He was not far from unsheathing it. “You seem  _awfully_  glib for a prisoner”.

The Crow chuckled. “It is my way, or, so I am told”. His head felt as if it was going to explode and he moaned, trying not to pity himself too much. The pain would surely soon pass, by death or time. He honestly preferred the latter alternative.

“Let’s see, then”, he continued. “I assume you kept me alive to ask me some questions, yes? If so, let me save you time and get right to the point. My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any living Grey Wardens. Which I failed at, sadly.” He tried to change his position into a more comforting one. A minor rock chaffed against his buttocks. The new position only made it worse. He came to the conclusion that he also wasn’t a big fan of rocks.

“And who sent you?” Solona asked and had to force herself not to kick him back into unconsciousness. Her knuckles was whitened as she clenched her fists.

“Hm. I think his name was Loghain”. Zevran thought for a moment. “Yes, that was his name. A taciturn fellow”.

Alistair took a step forward, his hand now brushing his sword’s hilt. “And you are loyal to  _him_?”

The Crow allowed himself to let out a sigh. Most Fereldans didn’t understand the business that surrounded assassinations – their knowledge was mainly limited to dogs and bad ale. All of Thedas knew that. Even Marchers were more intelligent – even though that maybe didn’t say much.

“I have no idea what his issues are with you”, he confessed truthfully. “The usual, I imagine. You threaten his power, yes? Beyond that, no, I’m not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform… a service”.

Solona furrowed her brows and shared a quick glance with Alistair. Zevran rolled his eyes. Was it really that hard for them to fathom all this?

Solona locked her eyes with his. “Why are you telling us all this?”

“Why not?”, was his simple response, accompanied by a small shrug. “I wasn’t paid for silence”.

“What about your… employees? Aren’t you loyal to them?”, she countered.

He gave her a pale smile. “Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you’re done interrogating me, we can discuss it further”.

“I’m listening”, she said with slited eyes, earning a scowl from Morrigan. Solona did her best to ignore it. “But you better make it quick”.

“Well, here’s the thing”. He let himself close his eyes; the morning sun was bright, and it made his head throb even worse. “I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That’s how it works. If you don’t kill me, the Crows will”. He leaned his head against the tree’s rough bark. He suspected that some of the bark’s pieces rooted themselves in his hair. “Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead”.

Alistair let out a scoff, but let his hand leave the blade’s hilt by his hip. “And if we now did let you…  _serve_ , us after all you’ve done. Are we to expect the same amount of loyalty from you as your current employer?”

The assassin looked almost hurt. Who did they think he was? “I happen to be a very loyal person”, he said with a slightly pouted lip. “Up until the point someone expects me to die for failing. That’s not a fault, really, is it? I mean, unless you’re the sort who would do the same thing. In which case I… don’t come very well-recommended, I suppose”. The elf grinned and Solona walked away from the scene.

Morrigan decided to wait with killing him behind Solona’s back, and followed after her.

“What do you think?” Morrigan asked her with ice in her voice. “I think we should end his life”.

Solona paused outside Wynne’s tent and looked into her eyes. “I… I understand you, Morrigan. But we need all the help we can get”. She paused and Morrigan raised her brows, but she continued before Morrigan was able to speak. “I think we have to let Elissa decide what to do, when she wakes up”.

“ _If_  she wakes up”, Morrigan scolded, grasping her staff tightly. “And I am positively certain she wants to see the Crow dead. You remember what happened last night, yes? Let me refresh your memory; they tortured her and killed Truce”.

“I remember”. Solona sighed heavily as she rubbed her face. “I remember”. Morrigan pivoted on her foot and went muttering to her own tent. It was fair, letting Elissa decide the assassin’s punishment – but it didn’t mean she liked it.

Solona stared after Morrigan’s retreating form before she lifted the tent flap and entered the tent that housed the wounded woman. The smell of iron knocked her and Wynne and Leliana looked up at her.  
“How is she?”, Solona wondered with a worried wrinkle between her brows.

“It is… not good”. Wynne tenderly stroked Elissa’s feverish forehead. “Poor girl. She might have done many things wrong”, she laid her other hand on Leliana’s shoulder, referencing to what the woman had said about the incident at Redcliffe, “but maybe she is to be trusted, after all. If she endured all this without giving up our position…” She paused. “How far away from Denerim are we? I would need a proper room for her to wake up in, and access to better herbs and equipment”.

“Maybe a day or two”, Solona answered. “One day, if we are to leave now and don’t stop on the way. We should not need pushing the horses too much”. Wynne nodded approvingly. That might work – or rather, it had to. They had no other alternative.

“So be it”, she decided. “Her condition is critical and being on the road won’t make it easier for her to heal, but staying here is just as bad. We need to leave now.” Wynne looked at Solona. “Go alert the others, dear. We should leave immediately”.

 Solona nodded and was about to leave, when Leliana opened her mouth. “Have the assassin woken up?”

“He has”, Solona said, biting her lip. “He says that Loghain sent him. He is to come with us, for now, until Elissa wakes up and decides what to do”.

Leliana’s eyes darkened, but she didn’t say anything. She only grasped Elissa’s warm hand.

 

*

 

Zevran made sure to get them decent rooms for a good price at the Pearl, and paid well for the proprietor’s silence.

When Wynne had made as much as she could for Elissa, she together with Sten and Morrigan went out to the market to buy more herbs, equipment and some food while Solona and Alistair went to see if they could find Goldanna. Wynne said to them it was unnecessary for them to spend even more time by Elissa’s side, and it was better for all if they did something more useful with their time. 

Both Solona and Morrigan were at unease in the big city. They had never been in a place with as much impressions at the same time before, and it made it hard for them to focus.

 

Leliana stayed by Elissa’s side. It was afternoon when she finally woke up, feverish and foggy. Elissa tried to speak but her voice failed her, and she felt fear creep in her body. With her heart racing, she jolted up into a sitting position only to widen her eyes as pain lanced through her entire being.

“It is alright, Elissa”, Leliana said with her soft, melodic voice. “You are safe. We are at the Pearl, in Denerim. The madam, Sanga, said she knew you”. Leliana gave her a pale smile. “It doesn’t surprise me. Maybe I should ask her if I can get a job here. A whore without a place to work…”. Leliana shook her head and bathed the confused warden’s forehead with a damp, cool cloth. “I’m sorry, Elissa. You should try to sleep more, no? We can always talk later”. Leliana hesitated before she kissed her brow, and Elissa grimaced as she forced herself to lift her aching hand, grabbing Leliana's wrist.

She gasped when the final movement made the room blurry, and her breathing rate increased when she saw the shape her sword-hand was in. The bandage wrapped around the hand was dark with blood, and her little finger was…  _missing_. She looked around the room. Something – no, someone else was also missing.

“Truce?”, she whispered almost inaudible, seeking Leliana’s safe eyes. Her throat was dry and it was hard to think.

“He… he has passed to the Maker's side, Elissa”. Leliana turned away her gaze and Elissa’s hand fell back down on the bed. “He died beside you, painlessly”. A white lie. Elissa closed her eyes and rolled onto her side, letting Leliana face her back.

She started to remember what had happened. The realization made her stomach turn inside out, and the pain and anxiety that ripped through her made her threw up sour bile on the floor. Leliana was about to pull away strands of hair from her face when Elissa rolled back and looked at her with hollow eyes. Vomit stained her cheek.

“Is anyone else hurt?”, she croaked. 

Leliana leaned closer to Elissa while softly caressing her head. “Can you repeat what you just said?”, Leliana cooed. “I couldn’t hear you”.

Elissa swallowed, trying to moisturize her mouth. “Is anyone else hurt?”

 Leliana shook her head and used the still damp cloth to remove most of the vomit on the warden’s skin. “Everyone else is fine, Elissa”.

“And… the assassins?”

“All but one is dead. He is here, actually. Solona told him that he was to come with us, so you could decide his fate is when you wake up”

“Bring him here”. Her voice was hoarse and desperate.

Leliana’s eyes flickered. Elissa was not in a good condition. “But –-“

“ _Please_ , Leli. Bring him, now”.

Leliana bit the tip of her tongue before nodding, accepting Elissa’s request. She gave her a long look before she closed the door and went down the stairs. By the bar she found Zevran sit and chat with a harlot. His charming smile faded when Leliana told him to come with, but true to his word, he did as she said.

“I want to speak with him in private”, Elissa said to Leliana while she eyed the elf from head to toe.

Darkness lingered in her eyes.

 

*

 

“Is it hard to believe that I preferred my sister when she was a demon?”, Alistair mumbled when they exited Goldanna’s home. They had met his half-sister and she was not the nice, loving person the two wardens somehow had expected her to be. Solona pinched the bridge of her nose and a slightly ashamed and disappointed Alistair continued. ”Please… don’t tell the others I gave her money”.

“She is horrible _,_  just  _horrible_ ”, Solona groaned and hugged him, tightly. “You deserve much better, my dear friend.” She gave him a peck on the cheek before she added, “And I promise not to tell the others about the silver”. He hugged her back and buried his face in her neck. Her feminine scent comforted him, and a small smile curled his lip as he thought of what they could do with their free time.

“So, do you want to see the botanical garden now?”

“I would absolutely love to!” Solona exclaimed with glimmering eyes and ended their embrace.

Alistair chuckled a little and offered her his arm, which she to his joy accepted with a smirk. Solona always lightened his mood, and he enjoyed the anonymity the crowded city offered. They were casually dressed and no one minded them any attention.

We look like a couple,he thought and felt a sheepish grin creep onto his lips as his chest grew both warmer and puffier. “Um”, he cleared his throat as they approached an intersection and felt how Solona’s wonderful brown eyes sought his. “I just have to figure out how we get there first”.

 

*

 

Wynne tried to smother a wan smile. For the first time since she met the apostate, Morrigan seemed insecure and jittery as they walked amongst the merchant stands. She guessed that Lothering was the only true settlement, aside from Redcliffe, Morrigan had sat her foot in, and the capital was something totally different from the small village. Humans were everywhere, and Morrigan stayed close to her and Sten so she wouldn’t disappear in the crowd.

The smells; rotten fish, cheap perfumes, mold, sweat, and waste confused her unaccustomed nostrils. The noises; chatter, shouts, neighs, and barks created a unique symphony, unlike anything Morrigan earlier had heard.

Sten shook his head at the sight of the market place, knowing The Qun never would let their settlements degrade like this -- to even be allowed to become this chaotic and foul.

“Morrigan, dear”, Wynne called for her attention and saw the apostate’s unfocused eyes dart around before they landed on Wynne. A scowl crossed her face as a bypasser almost walked into her. Wynne could no longer hide her wan smile. “What is it you need for your poultices and balms?

“Flasks, spindleweed, blood lotus, poppy and elfroot”, she reminisced. “And different agents”.

Wynne nodded slowly as she scanned the stands after the merchandise. “I will see what we can find”.

 

*

 

Even if they didn’t find all of the wares Morrigan wanted, she looked content when they returned to the Pearl. Wynne smiled for herself. She was probably happy to be in a somewhat calmer environment, if now a brothel could be called that.

TSten, on the other hand, was not content to be back. “This place  _stinks_  of desperation”. He immediately left the mages and went to his chamber. He could not wait until the Qun conquered these lands and improved them. 

Wynne turned to Morrigan. “I’ll just put these in my room,” she nodded at her basket, “and then I’ll go check on Elissa”. Morrigan shrugged her shoulders, indifferent to Wynne's whereabouts, now when she did not risk getting lost in a throng. 

Wynne ascended the creaky stairs and walked through the hallway, ignoring the screams of lust and moans of passion that ripped through the dusky air. 

Leliana sat on her bed in the room she shared with Wynne, and bit on her nails. She tilted her head when Wynne entered. “How did it go?”

“It went without trouble”, she answered truthfully, “but I think Morrigan won’t leave her bed for a while. The poor child looked almost traumatized”. Wynne then paused in her steps and eyed Leliana suspiciously, noticing her nervous appearance. “What is wrong, dear?”

“Elissa is awake”, she murmured and buried her face in her hands.

“Already?” Wynne sounded surprised. “I must go see to her immediately, then”. She tossed the basket on her bed and was prepared to leave when Leliana opened her mouth once more,

“The assassin is with her, and… Wynne”. Leliana’s voice became clearer. “She told me not to disturb”. Leliana looked up to her with a shadowed expression.

Wynne’s eyes widened and she rushed through the halls to Elissa’s room, entering it by throwing the door open. She gasped.

The scene before her was  _not_  what she had expected. Leliana showed up right behind her, and the look on her face revealed that she was equally as bewildered.

They had expected – maybe even wished – to see a dead elf lying on the floor, or at the very least, some blood. Instead, Zevran was in the bed head-to-toe with Elissa. The room was filled with smoke – Wynne coughed and felt her eyes go watery. Elissa looked at the newcomers with half-lidded, heavy eyes, holding a bottle of Antivan brandy., whereas the assassin stared into the ceiling with a hazed gaze, clearly not as used to smoking the same amount of elfroot as she did.

“Hey”, Elissa slurred as she spotted her companions, “I am… I am not in pain anymore”. She waved with her injured hand and let out a hollow chuckle. “Do not look so surprised. Since he killed Truce, he managed to convince me that I was in dire need for a new pet”. She threw him a dazed look. “He is a slick talker, indeed”. She turned her attention to the bedside table, and let out her wounded hand to carefully caress the collar and kaddis paint that lay there. She appreciated that her mind was too wrapped up in fog to feel any deeper sadness for her loss, knowing that it would come later.    

Wynne rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand before she let out a heavy sigh, trying to take control of the bizarre situation. 

“Zevran, let me take you to your accommodations”. The Circle mage went to the slightly confused elf and helped him get up on his feet. When he was at the door, he turned to Elissa and gave her a slight bow. Elissa only looked at him, shrugging her shoulders, and Zevran left with a swaying walk.

Leliana slowly closed the door before taking the bottle away from her, placing it on the floor. With a shaking head, she fell down on the seat next to the bed. Elissa sought her puzzled eyes.

“He only did his job”, Elissa sighed. “Just as you did… once upon a time”.

Leliana winced at the reminder of her former life.

“Oh, Leli. I loved that dog to bits. I - I must be cursed.” Elissa had a hard time controlling her feelings that began to pierce through her haze. “Everyone I love dies”. Her voice cracked and she tried to blink away the tears that burned her eyes. “I must… I am sorry for what I did to you at Redcliffe. You see”, Leliana grabbed her healthy hand, listening, “I care deeply for you. And I can not be the woman you want or need, and because of that, I fear I would hurt you”. She paused, fumbled for the liquor bottle. She groaned in pain as she reached her hand to the floor. She grabbed the bottle’s neck and brought it to her lips, taking a long swig. The brandy burned her throat and she relished the familiar sensation.

She took a deep breath for soothing air and continued. “No, that was a lie. I am afraid of you hurting me. We have not known each other very long, but if you would betray me or Maker forbid,  _die_ , I no longer have a heart. It is shattered. If anything were to happen to you or anyone else…” She groaned. “I am spoiled and selfish. I know that. But now, with all that has happened…”. She shook her head, not able to finish her sentence. Leliana squeezed the woman’s hand again and her voice was soft and melodic as she spoke,

“I don’t ask you to change, and I surely don’t ask for your hand”, Leliana gave her a small smile, “and I will  _never_  betray you or the rest of the group - The Maker himself sent me to you, remember? I may have the skills of a bard, yes, but I no longer am one. I am glad I left that life behind me”. Elissa felt Leliana’s thumb caress the back of her hand. “About dying… All earthly bodies die, Elissa. That is why we must live as much as we can, before we leave this realm. Don't... don't fear death. It is only another beginning”.

Elissa felt tears fall down her cheek, and when she spoke, her voice was not more than a whisper: “I will never hurt you again”.

“I’ve been hurt before, more severely than you can imagine”. Leliana let out a low chuckle. “Your words may be fatal for a maid or a noblewoman, but I…” Leliana put a hand on Elissa’s shoulder, signaling that she should scoot over. Elissa grimaced as the movement made her abdomen twist in pain, but felt it was worth it when Leliana gently lay down beside her. “I was hurt and sad, yes. But it is nothing I can’t deal with, or forgive.”

“If you want to… could you stay with me?” Elissa’s eyelids were now heavy as lead, and her fever and intoxication made it hard for her to stay awake.

“I could”, she felt Leliana gently stroke her greasy hair, “and I will”.

When Wynne came back to change Elissa’s bandages, none of the two women woke from their sleep. Wynne smiled for herself.

She had seen that scene before.


	19. Chapter 19

Most of her body had healed, but the muscles still ached every time she moved and her hand…  _My sword-hand._ She looked at it in disgust. Four fingers. She wasn’t even able to close it into a fist.

Wynne had said that maybe training would solve it, but Elissa doubted it. Leliana had put a mattress on the floor next to her bed and slept there every night for the past week. Alistair and Solona had almost been out every day, exploring the city. They had told her that the alienage was closed.  _Amethyne._ Elissa closed her eyes and felt anguish rip through her entire being.  _Somehow I will make sure she’s taken care of, sweet Iona._

Sten, Alistair, Solona, and Morrigan had with the help of the useful assassin, Zevran, found Brother Genitivi’s home. They had there found notes indicating that the brother was in the Frostback Mountain’s, in a village called Haven, to research the myth of The Urn of Sacred Ashes. Leliana was delighted when she heard the news, devoted to the Andrastian faith she was. Elissa wasn’t so sure herself. The Maker and Andraste were good for one thing – cursing. At least it was what she tried to convince herself, trying not to think about her weak moment in Redcliffe’s chantry.

 _‘You do not have to believe in the Maker. Believe in yourself, and all will be fine’._ Revered Mother Hannah’s words echoed in her mind. It was certainly hard to believe in herself. She was not brave and dedicated to fighting the Blight the way Solona and Alistair were. Some fleeting moments – often when she was drunk, she felt her chest fill with love to the Order of the Grey and the feeling of being important, a part of something bigger.  _The Maker smiles sadly on his Grey Wardens as no sacrifice is greater than theirs._ Elissa thought of Ser Joryn and Daveth.  _Poor sods._  Elissa honestly believed she also would die that night, hopefully, to reunite with her family. And now Duncan, who’d offered her the chalice of apparently-not-death, also had perished. Elissa felt shame creep onto her, so intensely that her neck hair prickled. She wished she acted differently towards the man the last days in his life. He had only tried to save her, after all, and here  _she_  – ungrateful and filled with cowardice - was alive and he – an honorable and foremost dutiful man - dead.

Elissa gritted her teeth.  _Loghain and Howe will get their sentences, when the time is right._  She hit an empty bottle against the nightstand and the glass scattered on the floor with a sound that made her ears ring. She picked up a shard and let it kiss the skin on her forearm. A small trickle of blood erupted, and gravity made it slowly drip down on the floor. She was so damn close to the traitors.

She had sent Zevran out on small… errands. Both Loghain and Howe were just a couple of kilometers away. Daryn too. _Sweet, dear, Daryn_. Elissa wanted to meet her, make her explain what happened at Ostagar. Wanted to show Cauthrien she still was alive. Zevran said it was most unwise, and that Daryn was safer if she didn’t know about her. He was of course right. The former Crow was not as stupid as his smile.

And Anora.  _How are you dealing with Cailan’s death, my friend?_ She and Elissa, both daughters to teyrns, and both of them willful and yet so different.  _Anora would never be weak, as I am._ It was between Anora and Elissa King Maric had chosen when he wanted his son betrothed. Elissa shook her head, grateful that the passed king had made the right choice. She would have been a truly bad queen, while Anora was royal out to her very fingertips.  _She is also dutiful_.  _The only reason I’m still here, is because… Mother and Father, Gilmore. Nan. They all died for me_. 

_‘Pup. Look at me. We are Couslands, and we do what must be done. You shall always follow your duty, and your duty is now towards the Grey Wardens’._

Elissa groaned _. Your duty is now towards the Grey Wardens. In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In Death, Sacrifice_. She sat up on her rumpled, sweaty bed and ignored her screaming muscles as she let her feet touch the wooden floor.  _Fucking sacrifice everywhere_. She had poison in her blood and a maximum of fifteen years of this damn duty left.

She gasped as she stood up for the first time since she was out in the forest with a happy and loyal Truce by her side. Another sacrifice, another death for her sake. She went to the mirror and gazed at her sorry reflection.  _Still not as bruised at my soul. Always something_. She chuckled ruefully and smelled her armpit. Ugh. The room must really stink. She tried to make her a bit more presentable with the water that was in a bucket in one of the room’s corners and brushed her hair.  _Note to self: Take a bath_.

She walked slowly down the stairs, resting against the rail. She let her eyes wander the room and saw most of her companions sit at a table. Even Morrigan was with them.

“By the Maker!” Wynne gasped, “What do you think you’re doing?”. Elissa gave the older woman a pale smile. “Take a guess, dear Senior Enchanter”. She tried to mock her by bowing but felt a bit too miserable to succeed, and she swayed. It clearly showed, since Leliana immediately went to her side and helped her take the last steps to a seat. Frost greeted her with a muffled bark.

“He’s trying to teach me how to play Wicked Grace”, Solona explained to Elissa. Leliana, Alistair and Solona played while Wynne sipped on cheap wine. What Morrigan was doing there, Elissa didn’t know.

“Wynne, could we switch seats? I shall teach the lassie my best tricks”, Elissa winked and Wynne allowed herself to give her a smile.

“No!”, Alistair protested with pouted lips. “I finally had the chance to not come last, now when she was with”.

Morrigan snorted and Solona let out a light laugh. Elissa smothered a smile – she noticed the coy glances the other two wardens sent each other. She stiffened as she heard Sanga’s voice.

“Welcome back, darling”, Sanga purred as she closed in to their table, swaying her hips. “I am glad to see you’re feeling more… presentable than you were upon arrival, Your Ladyship”, Sanga continued with a honeyed voice. “We have missed you dearly, and I see you’ve gotten to know Zevran. A real treat, isn’t he?”

Elissa could almost hear Morrigan’s amused smirk, and she cleared her throat as she felt her cheeks burn. “Yes, madam, he is something special”, she answered with a wan smile. “And I hope he gave you a… treat, for keeping our visit discreet?”

“Mmh. That he did”. Sanga rested a hand on her hip. Elissa knew that despite the procuress’ expression, Sanga was a wile, calculating woman with a nose for business. Sanga studied the bruised Elissa and clicked with her tongue. “Tsk. Someone should attend to you, poor thing. Do you remember Primarosa? She is still working here, and she has missed you terribly”. She was about to gesture to the young Antivan woman to come over, but stopped when Elissa shook her head, uncomfortably shifting in the chair.

“I am good this time”, Elissa said, rubbing the back of her head. She winced as she encountered what she thought was a bruise.

“No?”, Sanga asked with a raised brow. “Not even another surprise?”

Elissa’s eyes widened and her face turned red. “No! Absolutely _not_!”, she blurted and Sanga sniggered at the reaction, winking. “

That wasn’t what I’ve heard. But very well, honey, I’ll let you be. You know where to find me if you’ll change your mind”. She let her eyes wander to Alistair.

“I believe you would enjoy Primarosa as well, handsome, young man”. 

Alistar blushed and his eyes flickered. “No… No, thank you… eh, madam”, he spluttered, suddenly overly interested in the cards he held in his hand.

“’No, no, no’. You all are bad for business”. Sanga smiled crookedly. She was about to twirl around and go to see to her other customers when she hindered herself in the motion, giving the rest of the party a look.  “Remember – everyone here is welcomed, despite… age, talents or gender.” Her smiling eyes returned to Elissa. "You do have pretty friends… Your Ladyship”. 

 

*

 

Leliana watched Elissa sleep in her bedroll. Her eyelids twitched, and beads of sweat had erupted from her skin.  _Another nightmare,_ she knew and kissed her jaw softly. Elissa had finally been able to fall asleep after hearing her sing ‘Andraste’s mabari’. Maybe, Leliana thought, it had been a bad choice. Elissa couldn’t speak of Truce without cracking, and a song that ended with…

_‘Oh they thought the wounds had killed him,_

_But then he limped out toward the fire._

_And Hessarian, he shed a tear,_

_As that dog laid on the pyre.’_

 

… was probably not the best choice. Elissa hadn’t seemed to mind, though, and Leliana was for that relieved.

They were traveling to Haven. Back in Denerim, the day before they left for the village in the cold mountains, Elissa had bought her a lute and showed Leliana her favourite books. The tent was too dark now to read, but Leliana caressed the literature that lay on the frozen ground. Leliana hadn’t thought of Elissa as a reader – less someone who actually read poetry, and Leliana managed to convince Elissa to buy the books so she could read them as well.

“Maybe the Maker exists, maybe he doesn’t”, Elissa had told her with a lopsided smile in the book store, ignoring the small eyeroll Leliana made. “No matter what; I enjoy reading the chants. And oh”, she said with glimmering eyes as she reached for another book on the shelf. “Verses of Dreams!” A beat as she spotted yet another. “And The Cantos! I just love them. Say what you want about the Sten, but those big fellows know their philosophy”.

Morrigan had shaken her head at Elissa’s enthusiasm – Leliana didn’t even know why the apostate had accompanied them to the store in the first place. Later, she noticed Morrigan left the store with a couple of books, and when Elissa asked her about them, she only said it was for research. Elissa hadn’t asked anything further. Leliana would never understand their odd friendship, if one could call it that.

And the lute… Leliana’s heart swelled when she thought about it. She knew it was Elissa’s way of trying to receive her forgiveness. She had already forgiven the Warden, but the former bard admitted that getting a lute was worth the days of feeling rejected and hurt.

Sten seemed to be in an almost good mood lately. In Denerim, Elissa and Zevran sought up a traveling merchant, and had by doing that found his  _Asala_. Elissa explained to her that Sten’s sword in some way was his soul. Leliana couldn’t stop thinking about it – she thought it was beautiful. Leliana looked at Elissa’s family sword, knowing that Elissa clanged to it in a somewhat similar way.

They had come across Bodahn and Sandal Feddic almost a week ago, and the odd boy had put an enchantment on the sword. Elissa was a bit unclear what the enchantment was for, but she had told her Morrigan had recommended it; it had something to do with the taint and darkspawn.

Elissa’s body was still bruised, but the bruises had faded into a yellowish hue. Leliana let nimble fingers dance along the Warden’s exquisite jawline, and the woman winced in her sleep from the tickling sensation. She heard Solona laugh from where she and Alistair sat by the camp fire, and she smiled for herself. The two wardens clearly had evolved feelings for one another, but not realized it themselves. They would be a fine couple, Leliana thought. Both were light-hearted, strong, and loyal and were among the kindest people she had ever met. While Elissa… well. She was heavily affected by her past.  _Just like I am_.  _The only difference is I’ve had more time to process it._

Suddenly, Elissa jerked up from the bedroll with a gasp, trying to suck in air in her lungs. The terror in her eyes and her abrupt awakenings startled Leliana at first, but she had gotten used to it by now. She was glad Elissa dared to sleep at all, as long she wasn’t by herself.

“It is fine, Elissa”, Leliana said with a soft voice. “It was only a nightmare”. Her eyes had adapted to the dark and she saw the woman relax. Leliana knew the nightmare wasn’t related to the Grey Warden dreams, since her eyes weren’t milky colored.

“Maybe we should not go to Haven, chasing something that might not even exist”. Elissa sounded upset and covered her face with one hand. She must have dreamt of the Blight, again, Leliana guessed. “If I only knew how to contact the Orlesian Wardens…” She let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe I should have convinced Teagan to become the arl instead”.

“We are almost there”, Leliana said calmly. “And you need Arl Eamon, not only for his armies, but for dealing with Howe and Loghain. Bann Teagan is a good man, but not as charismatic as his older brother”. Leliana knew exactly what Elissa needed to hear not to give up. Elissa fumbled after Leliana’s hand.

“Andraste’s flames, you are cold.” Leliana was a bit cold, it was true, but Elissa's concern for her well-being immediately made her chest warmer. Elissa rubbed her hand and kissed its knuckles. Leliana chuckled quietly and Elissa fell in love with the dulcet sound anew. She smiled to herself. Leliana was a much better tent mate than Morrigan who often dramatically sighed before she tried to somewhat awkwardly comfort her after a nightmare.

“Come”. Elissa opened up her bedroll and lifted up a blanket, welcoming Leliana. “I won’t do anything inappropriate”, she added quickly, embarrassed when Leliana hesitated. “It is just warmer, this way. Wynne would scold me if you woke up as an icicle, and I need to stay in her good grace”. Leliana crept down under the blanket and they lay on their sides facing each other, trying to find the other’s gaze in the dark.

“Tell me something, if you want. I enjoy your stories”. Elissa paused. “And your voice”. Leliana kissed her forehead and let out another low chuckle.

“I know you do”. Leliana took Elissa’s hand, prepared to open up to her some more. “Have I ever told you about the Revered Mother that saved me from the dungeons?”.

Elissa shook her head and nuzzled Leliana’s cold nose, “No”.

“Her name is Dorothea…”

Elissa listened to Leliana as she spoke of the time in the Chantry with the Revered Mother, before she had to leave for Lothering to go into hiding from Marjolaine. The way she talked about the older woman showed how much she looked up to her – almost like a mother figure.

“I wish I could meet her. From what you are telling me, she reminds me of Nan. A tad bit, anyway”, Elissa clucked as she tried to ignore the painful feeling of loss. Nan must have died with the rest of them. “Nan was the one who raised me. She was the warmest and kindest person. She just hid those parts from most”. Elissa smiled as she remembered. “She could be so stern and harsh, but it was just a facade. Everyone liked her, even if they refused to admit it. She was just. That is one thing I am proud of, not only with Nan, but the rest of my family. They all were just. Father even worked for elves rights; that their conditions would improve. He was so liked for that, elves from all around Ferelden wanted to work for him”.  

“I wish I could meet them as well”. Leliana stroke away hair from Elissa’s face and tugged it behind her ear. Elissa snorted lightly, but kept the warm smile.

“Mmh. But I doubt they would approve of you”, she pondered out loud and panicked as she heard what it sounded like. “Not  _you_ , Leli, not you. You are absolutely wonderful. I mean they would not like that we – oh, Maker”. Elissa was indescribable happy that it was dark, so Leliana couldn’t see the reddish color that crept onto her cheeks. “I – eh, I didn’t mean we are  _something_ , you know. It is just that… the inn… Maker”.

Leliana’s chuckle was muffled when her persistent, salacious mouth decided to part Elissa’s lips, and the kiss sent feral shivers along her spine. Elissa was astonished at first, but soon she had an epiphany; as her heart began beating faster, she knew this was something totally different from their first and only time together. Then, they wanted to belong. Now, they simply wanted to be. Elissa’s saliva tasted of desire and ale; Leliana smelled like soap and excitement.

Leliana’s experienced, seducing tongue now ruled her body and mind, and Elissa accepted her defeat as she pressed her mouth hard against Leliana’s – Leliana could feel Elissa’s front teeth against her own. Leliana swiveled her head back and forth in desire, wanting more, wanting to come closer. She took a firm grip of Elissa’s shoulder and pushed her down, so she lay on her back. Leliana was on top of her and quickly yanked off her shirt. Elissa felt a trembling fire inside of her as she could distinguish the shape of pale, round breasts in the dense dark around them, the dark that lured them into the other’s arms.

Leliana inclined her face, and Elissa lost herself against her mouth once more. They only took short pauses from inhaling the other’s very soul, and that was when shaking fingers tried to remove the rest of their clothes so that they could to feel the other’s steaming skin against their own.  Elissa moaned softly from her throat, let her arms wrap around Leliana’s warm body. Leliana closed her eyes and let Elissa roll her around, shifting their positions while still kissing. Their minds and their bodies were tangled together.

Since her youth, Elissa had been learned that this very act was unholy, yet she for the first time in her life felt religious. The woman beneath her was Andraste herself, and her body a shrine to be worshipped. Leliana felt how her body slowly dissolved into hers. She was overwhelmed by hunger; she wanted to lick her, eat her, drink her.

Elissa could feel Leliana’s fingers tangle in her hair, before moving down her back with circling motions, letting her palms imprint her body, claiming her. Leliana wailed as Elissa let her uninjured hand move down the stomach, down to the wetness between her parted thighs, where Leliana welcomed the slightly calloused hand that knew exactly how to introduce itself. Elissa felt divine when the Songbird now pushed away the darkness surrounding them with the most beautiful of vowels.

The redhead arched her back and groaned as spasms tore her body apart in the most wonderful way. When she could feel oxygen fill her lungs again, Leliana gently pushed Elissa off her. Now it was Elissa who was onto her back on the bedroll. With shaking legs Leliana straddled her. With mischief in her half-open, swollen eyes she nibbled Elissa’s nipples, slowly making her way down. When Elissa finally came, she crumbled like sand.

Nothing else than them mattered.

 

*

 

“What was that?” Alistair blurted in surprise as a loud moan came from Leliana’s and Elissa’s tent. He looked puzzled at Solona who looked just as much as confused, and they sat silent for a split second until they both burst out laughing. “Elissa always says how much she likes Leliana’s Orlesian tongue, and now I understand what she meant”. Alistair grinned, but the warm light from the fire revealed that he now had a most prominent blush. Solona grinned back to him and revealed her white teeth, and Alistair averted his gaze back to the fire.

“I know this might be an odd timing and all…”, he paused and clucked as Leliana moaned a whole row of Orlesian words, “but I just wanted to say that I really appreciate that you went with me to see my sister. And that you… well, that you were there to talk me down after we left. You’re a true friend, and… yeah. I just wanted to tell you that”.

Solona strained herself to not laugh as now Elissa’s guttural sounds replaced Leliana’s dulcet. “We are in this together, Alistair”. They both began laughing once again as they both understood the double meaning of what she just had said; they had to endure not only the Blight together, but also their friends' lovemaking. “I know you have my back as well”, Solona grinned through her laughing tears.

“Ah, stop it, you”, Alistair chuckled and scratched his neck.

As the sounds from the tent intensified, Solona thought this was a good time as any to ask what she had wondered. “Alistair?”

“Mmh?” he hummed, focused on the dancing flames.

“Have you ever…?” She blushed as she couldn’t end the sentence.

“Never…? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?” He clucked and bored his eyes into hers.

“Ha-ha. You know what I mean”.

“I’m not sure I do. Have I never seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?”

“Now you’re making fun of me”, Solona muttered embarrassed. “Forget I asked”.

“Make fun of you, dear lady? Perish the thought!”, he exclaimed theatrically. “Well, tell me, have  _you_  ever licked a lamppost in winter?”

“I was stuck in a tower, Alistair. There were no lampposts there”.

“You are not good at this”, Alistair said still a bit amused, “But no. I have not done, eh, that”. He cocked his eyebrow pointedly in the direction of the women’s tent. “Not that I haven’t thought about it, of course. But… you know”. He now rubbed his forehead, nervous about what she was going to say. “I never really had the opportunity”.

Solona looked at him. He was handsome, kind and ever the gentleman. It puzzled Solona how he not could have had the opportunity to be intimate with someone. She bit the inside of her cheek as she came up with an idea.

“You…”. She swallowed. “You can kiss me if you want”, Solona tried to say casually, as if she didn’t care. It was first when she had uttered the words she realized how much she actually wanted him to.

Alistair looked shocked and his face grew dark red. “How can you say some—“

He choked on his words as Solona inclined her head towards him and let their lips meet. It was a gentle, curious kiss. When she withdrew from it, he was speechless. He just looked at her with dilated pupils.

“You- you’re beautiful”, he stuttered. Even his ears were red now.

“And you flatter me”, she smiled a bit shyly and clasped his hand. The two wardens sat like that, with intertwined fingers next to the fire, until it was time for Sten’s and Morrigan’s shift.  


	20. Chapter 20

Morrigan let her eyes wander over the majestic landscape while she led her mare. White mountain tops dissolved into white clouds on a grayish background. She, as well as the two Circle mages, was able to keep warm with magic, while most of the others – especially the annoying assassin, seemed to freeze as never before, despite the runes Wynne had given them. Sten had, besides a warming rune, been gifted a cloak Wynne had made for him. The older mage had been appalled when she found out that it was impossible to find clothes in his size, and therefore taken care of the problem herself.  She was like a mother to them all, really.

"Look out for signs of Red Lions", Wynne warned them. "I would not like to meet them while walking with our horses".

Sten was clearly not delighted for this; looking for a man who does research about a mythical Urn instead of preparing more directly for the Blight. She admitted to herself that she agreed with him, but chose to stay quiet and follow Elissa. She had no choice. Elissa said she was going to kill Flemeth, and Morrigan was afraid Elissa wouldn’t try if she gave her any reason not to.

Morrigan held the hood tightly around her face so it wouldn’t fall down from the wind gusts.  Solona and Alistair slowly paced forward through the deep snow that was up to their knees, holding hands with their horses on each side. Morrigan shook her head. Alistair was a stupid man and Solona talented, but naïve. Elissa had confided in Morrigan a night back in Denerim when she was drunk (as usual), that ‘you can’t tell  _anyone_  I said this to you, but all Grey Wardens are almost infertile”. If the two wardens now were a couple, Morrigan was glad they wouldn’t be able to reproduce stupid _and_ naïve children.

“Morrigan”, she heard her is-she-a-friend call, “do you need this?”. Morrigan turned back her head and saw Elissa proffer her a fur neckpiece.

“No”, she simply answered and pointed at her staff, reminding the warrior about her magic abilities. “As you know”. She looked forward again.

“Ah”, she heard Elissa mumble for herself, as if she felt dumb for forgetting. Morrigan paused and waited for the warden to catch up with her. Elissa gave her a big, cheerful grin when she finally was apace with Morrigan, and the genuine delight she showed just for walking next to her made Morrigan send her a small smile back.

“I know you are not here by choice, Blackbird --”, Morrigan snorted when Elissa called her the nickname she made up a few days ago when she had transformed back from a raven, “but I am glad you are”. Morrigan didn’t respond. Instead, she looked at Elissa’s frostbitten face and nodded at the fur she still held in her hand.

“’Tis you who should wear that. Your foolishness will let the cold kill you”. Elissa shrugged her shoulders at that, but wrapped it around her neck.

“At least Wynne would not let me die that easily anymore”, Elissa clucked and brought up a wineskin. She took a long drink and let the alcohol warm her insides. “I should be tortured more often if it means people actually start caring for me”. Morrigan noticed the shadow that fell over her companion’s face, as she laid her eyes on Frost that walked next to her mistress.

“You should have killed him”, Morrigan said plainly, looking at the miserable elf that hugged himself as he struggled through a snowdrift.

“Maybe I should have”. She paused. “But he has proven himself useful.” Another pause. “If he does something he should not, I will end his life without a second thought. He knows that”.

They were quiet for a while, and Morrigan heard Leliana’s irritating laughter fill the air. She noticed that Elissa smiled a little for herself at the sound.

“You sleep better nowadays”, Morrigan stated plainly. Now when Elissa shared a tent with Leliana again, instead of herself, the lines of fatigue had started to fade in her face.

“Don’t take it personally. It is hard to sleep with someone who refuses to  _sleep_  with me”, Elissa jested with wiggling eyebrows and Morrigan rolled her eyes.

“So the bard… she  _sleeps_  with you?”. Morrigan clicked her tongue and smirked. Even though she wasn’t fond of Leliana, she enjoyed making fun of the Elissa. It was so simple.

Elissa’s of cold pink face reddened as she realized what she just had said.

“Ah. I wonder, how is your healing training going?”, Elissa tried to deflect, grinning as she knew how transparent the change of subject was. Morrigan had been persuaded into learning the art of healing, and even if she didn’t admit it, the apostate found it enjoyable. “Next time an arrow pierces through my heart, I would love if it was you, and not an old lady, that undresses me”.

“And is it the bard that will send an arrow through your heart?”, Morrigan continued, still having the sly smirk on her lips.

Elissa muttered. Morrigan had won, again. “Maybe. I am not one to kiss and tell”.

“And yet you just did”.

Elissa frowned and decided to let the matter go. They paced forward in silence.

“There’s a road here!”, Solona shouted. “This must be the one that leads to Haven!”

“Let us see if we can find a good place to stay for the night”, Elissa instructed with her gaze directed at the cloudy sky, before biting her lip while studying the map she held with red fingertips. “If the map is correct, we should reach the village tomorrow”.

Alistair nodded. “Yes, Warden-Commander”, he jested and bobbed a bow. Elissa shook her head and grinned towards her brother-in-arms.

“You need to work on your courtly manners. I would have you beheaded for that insulting bow”, she laughed. “And if you two insist on letting me be Ferelden’s Commander of the Grey, you should know that our future looks…  _Blight_ ”.

Alistar and Solona chuckled at the bad joke and Morrigan saw that Elissa almost coyly glanced at Leliana, who smiled to Elissa with glimmering eyes.

Morrigan sighed, and tried to ignore the feeling that she hoped Elissa would find some light in the dark that seemed to surround her. Empathy was exhausting.

 

*

 

Sten sat with the horses and watched his companions that had gathered by the fire. With Truce gone, he rather held the horses' company than the others. Elissa had taken the lute from Leliana and sang for them. They all looked surprised – they had never earlier thought the former noblewoman could play an instrument or sing.  
“What do you think noblewomen do all day?”, Elissa had wondered at their baffled reaction and continued with a wink, “If you think this is decent, you should see all my tapestries”. Sten had found that Elissa, despite her love for the easy, decadent life, was devoted to everything she did. Sten appreciated hard work and devotion. He looked at his  _Asala_ that stood leaned against a rock next to him. The female…  _warrior_  had even taken her time to help him find it. It hadn’t changed his opinions, Sten still thought it was odd – wrong, even, that there were women in this country that were allowed to handle weapons. The Warden had thereto a special longing for other women, which Sten thought, was unnatural. She was no man. The day the Qun would conquer these lands once more, such abominations would cease to exist.

He felt torn. They shouldn’t be here, lost in the mountains looking for something that didn’t even exist. His purpose was to fight the Blight, not to save some insignificant human noble’s life. On the other hand, he owed them his life.

Sten listened to the words the woman sang, although he did not perceive them all.

_“Violently were they cast down,_

_For no mortal may walk bodily_

_In the realm of dreams,_

_Bearing the mark of their Crime:_

_Bodies so maimed_

_And distorted that none should see them_

_And know them for men._

_Deep into the earth they fled,_

_Away from the Light._

_In Darkness eternal they searched_

_For those who had goaded them on,_

_Until at last they found their prize,_

_Their god, their betrayer:_

_The sleeping dragon Dumat. Their taint_

_Twisted even the false-god, and the whisperer_

_Awoke at last, in pain and horror, and led_

_Them to wreak havoc upon all the nations of the world:_

_The first Blight.”_

He made a decision. As the last note rang out, he walked to them with determined steps. Elissa gave the lute to Leliana who looked at her with a gaze he did not quite understand.

“You are a woman of many talents”, the orange-haired woman said to Elissa with her odd accent. Elissa’s face got a reddish hue, and she tilted her head in Sten’s direction when he approached.

“ _Kadan,_ ”, he began. Even if he didn’t fully understand or approve of their sidequest, he still respected her. “We are in the midst of nowhere, aimlessly climbing a mountain, when we should be attacking the archdemon”.

Elissa stiffened. She detested conflicts, and this was the first one with… a qunari. It was something completely different from an argument with a human, or elf even.

“That was quite an observation. What… What is it you want, the Sten?”, she wondered after a long moment of thinking. Her heart raced, banging against her chest.

“Reason”. His voice was a bit agitated, not as leveled as it used to be. “The archdemon is our goal. And we are heading away from it. To find a man who _might_ study the charred remnants of a dead woman”. He saw that Morrigan now warily watched them from her own camp, and the orange head opened her mouth. Solona and Wynne both hushed her before she could intervene.

Elissa swallowed. She knew she couldn’t be weak in front of him. The Qun despised weakness. At the same time, she  _was_  weak. And if she now were to imitate someone strong, there was a risk for failure that might provoke him even more. If he was to challenge her… Elissa knew that would be her death. Of all the times they had sparred, she always was the one to lose, drenched in sweat while he looked as exhausted as if he put on a kettle with tea – that will say, not much. And now with an incapable sword-hand… She had a long way to go if she were to be half as good with her left hand.

“I will not simply follow in your shadow as you run from battle”.

 _Maker_. “Sten, I am not running”. Elissa felt a muscle in her nose twitch. “I have explained to you why we –“

“Then turn and fight”, he interrupted her sternly. “You keep the darkspawn waiting”.

She rose up from her sitting position. “I will fight them, Sten.  _We_  will fight them. We  _will_  kill the archdemon. You know I always keep my word”. She pointed at his Asala. “I helped you find your  _Asala_ , even if it did not have anything to do with the Blight. Solona let you out from your cage in Lothering, so you could get a second chance, even though you slaughtered a family. It was you who chose to follow us”. A beat. Leliana tensed as she listened to the confrontation. She thought Elissa certainly had a thing for dramatic pauses – Elissa was a good story teller, after all. “Sten… You do not owe me anything. You can leave whenever you want. However, you must let us, the Grey Wardens - the only ones who are left in Ferelden and actually  _can_  kill the archdemon, try to find a way not get killed by a bunch mad humans in the process”. Elissa held her breath but didn’t avert her gaze as she and Sten looked into each other’s eyes, will against will.

“You are right,  _kadan_ ”, Sten said after what felt like a small eternity and Elissa could breathe again. She nodded to him and watched as he spun around and returned to his former seat. She fell down on the log. Her companions had also held their breaths, and they finally let oxygen fill their lungs.

“That was… unnerving”, Alistair stammered and covered Solona’s hand with his. Elissa nodded slowly, and they saw how a smile grew on her lips.

“I think we should celebrate my heart’s ability to still function! Should we sing a song, Songbird?” She winked to Leliana who relaxed and let out a relieved chuckle.

“ _Oui._ I would absolutely love to, Elissa”.

 

*

 

Leliana smirked and nudged Solona in the waist with her elbow. Her blue eyes were filled with mischief and Solona felt her face grew warm. “So… You and Alistair?” Leliana raised her brows suggestively.

“You are none to talk!” Solona clucked and turned her eyes to Alistair and Elissa who walked in front of them, involved in a vivid discussion. “We happened to hear you two loud and clear some nights ago, you know. You should be glad it was us and not Morrigan and Wynne that had to listen to you. They had probably put you two to sleep.” Solona mock-groaned. “I almost got nightmares from the mental images you gave me”.

Now it was Leliana’s time to feel her skin grow pink. “We were quite loud, no?”. 

“That is an understatement”. Solona linked her arm with the redhead. “But if you must know… Alistair and I haven’t done anything… yet”. Leliana nodded and looked at the two wardens in front of them. From behind them, they heard Morrigan and Wynne discuss different healing techniques, and she saw the shorter Zevran apace with the giant Sten and his horse. By the look on Sten’s face, the chatty elf disturbed him. Leliana was none to save the qunari from the unwanted company, not after yesterday’s unnecessary confrontation at least. Leliana was proud as she thought Elissa had handled it well. Leliana returned to study Elissa’s backside. Her slender yet muscular shape was highlighted by the tight leather armor, and she had her hair up in a messy bun, and Leliana fought the impulse to go and kiss her exposed neck.

“Oh. Alistair must have told her that”, Leliana said with pouted lips. “She hasn’t…  _dared_  to do it again. She says she doesn’t trust me to be quiet”.

Solona let her head fall back as she snickered. “Well, after I heard you sing that night, I understand her”.

Elissa and Alistair stopped, and Elissa lifted her hand, gesturing the others to stay put. “We are here now”, she said warily.

In the distance, they saw the village reveal itself amongst the mountains and trees. “I… I have an odd feeling. We should let the horses stay here”. Elissa seemed anxious and Leliana went to her side to slide her hand in Elissa’s. Elissa pulled away from her when their hands met, as if she got burned from the public endearment.

“Wh-what are you doing?”, she blurted with her brows raised in surprise.

Leliana felt hurt and her face burned from the rebuff, and she looked away while Alistair laid a hand on Elissa’s shoulder.

“You are among friends”, he said with a low voice only meant for Elissa to hear. Elissa shook her head, furrowed her eyebrows and chose to try to focus on their mission instead, doing her best to ignore Morrigan’s judging gaze, Wynne’s observing one, and, foremost, Zevran’s leering.

“Um”, she cleared her throat, “Sten, tie the horses out of sight from the road and stay with them. You can set up a smaller camp, if you would want. Be careful with the smoke, though. I would not want to see you ambushed. The rest of you, come with me”.

The group walked in silence, and when they stepped into the village, the rest of them understood what Elissa meant. Something was amiss – the streets were almost empty, except for a guard and a couple of young boys who stood and watched them.

The patrolling guard narrowed his eyes as he spotted them, and immediately went to the newcomers.

He stopped in front of Elissa and glared at her and her companions. “What are you doing in Haven? There is nothing for you here”. The man oozed hostility and Elissa felt her heart race, once again. What is this?

Solona stepped forward. “We are looking for a man, Brother Ferdinand Genitivi”, she managed to ask him. “Is he here?”

“Who?”, he wondered and stood quiet for a short moment before he continued. ”Perhaps Revered Father Eirik will know of whom you speak. Unfortunately, he is ministering to the villagers at the moment, and cannot be disturbed”.

“Revered Father?” Leliana sounded perplexed and shared a look with Wynne. “I have never heard of this”.

“It has always been thus in Haven”, the guard explained, staring at her. “We do not question traditions”. He paused. “You may trade for supplies if you wish, but then I suggest you leave”.

“Yes… Thank you”, Solona said with knitted eyebrows, and the guard strolled away. Morrigan went to Elissa’s side.

“They are hiding something. ‘Tis obvious, is it not?”

Elissa nodded, thinking.

“And a  _man_  as a priest?”, Leliana couldn’t fathom it.

Wynne agreed with Leliana and looked at the man as he walked into a house. “This is truly strange. A Revered Father in Thedas? The Chantry wouldn’t allow it. Only in Tevinter is such a thing possible”

“We must find this Brother Genitivi, and if this is our only chance…”, Alistair murmured, afraid of losing Arl Eamon to the poison that slowly killed him. Alistair would surely break if he lost another father figure. Solona took his hand and squeezed it. He was glad she was here.

Elissa pointed at the Chantry building that was located a bit higher up in the mountains. “You’re right, my brother. I think we should pay this holy man a visit”.


	21. Chapter 21

“The righteous stand before the darkness, and The Maker shall guide their hand”.

Leliana was out of arrows and threw a dagger into one of the zealous villagers’ head. Through the metallic clashes of weapons meeting weapons, she heard Alistair’s anguished battle cry. She knew how much he hated killing people, and now it seemed as if the battle would never come to an end.

Leliana kept a close eye on Elissa. She struggled with a dagger in her left hand, with the family sword still sheathed on her hip. She heard Elissa scream to Alistair, but was unable to hear what was said. Leliana saw, in the corner of her eye, that Alistair didn’t leave her side – they always fought together, and it almost looked as if they were born to do it. They both completed each other.   
Leliana groaned as she pulled out two arrows from a dead woman’s chest. She was relieved to see that they were not broken, and she quickly shot them at a young man that sprinted towards the three mages from their behind.

Her hands were smeared with other men’s blood. She took a deep breath, analyzing her surroundings. She was tired of killing, having done more than enough as a bard. She wanted peace.

The Maker had yet to grant her that.

Leliana tensed as she heard running footsteps approaching her on her left side. She whirled around on her heels and with widened eyes, she in the last second managed to dodge a shovel – an elderly man was out for her. Panting, she retrieved her thrown dagger stuck in the now dead man’s face and with swift movements stabbed its blade into the older man’s throat. He looked at her with terror in his eyes as he dropped the shovel, and put his both hands on the heavily bleeding wound.

“Maker, save us all”, she whispered as the man fell down on his back. He died looking up to the cloudy sky.

 

*

 

The battle was over. Alistair sank down on both knees and looked at his blood-covered hands. Elissa did the same. Among the field of dead bodies, it laid men and women of all ages. Alistair was shaking badly and his teeth chattered – he was in no control of his body. _The children_ …

He and Elissa had encountered several of them in the midst of battle. Elissa had screamed to him, that he must kill them before they killed him. When he hesitated, one of them somehow had managed to sneak up on Elissa and smashed her already injured hand with a pickaxe. After that… he didn’t even remember what had happened. Everything was black.

The villagers were no warriors. He didn’t understand  _why_  they would do something like this. Elissa leaned her cheek against his pauldron, leaving a foggy mark on the metal. Alistair noticed that she also was shaking, and she held her profusely bleeding hand with the other.

“Maker, forgive me”, he whispered hoarsely through his teeth, and felt tears flow down his cheeks. He was afraid he would break.

“He must”, Elissa said with a hollow voice. “He must”. Alistair wasn’t sure who she tried to convince – him or herself.

Solona and Wynne zigzagged through the dead bodies, and they gasped when they saw the dead children. Wynne covered her eyes with her hands, trying to process the situation. Zevran watched them from afar, with a bloodstained Frost by his side.

Solona bent down to Alistair and kissed his wet cheeks softly. Elissa looked at them before she jerked herself up. She grabbed Wynne’s wrist. “Take Zevran with you, and go see to Brother Genitivi. He  _must_  live”.

“But your hand --” she began, concerned.

“Is already bloody ruined”. Elissa clenched her teeth as if just mentioning the hand made it hurt even more. “Without Genitivi, we are lost. And everything… all this… was in vain”. Wynne let a hand stroke Elissa’s cheek before she jogged to Zevran and told him to come with.

They had found out that the people of Haven were cultists involved with human sacrifice. The cultists had tried to kill Brother Genitivi to protect both their secrets as well as the Sacred Ashes, and when Leliana had confronted Revered Father Eirik about the blood that covered their shrine, his last word had been; ‘We don't owe you any explanations for our actions. We have a sacred duty; failure to protect Her would be a greater sin. All will be forgiven’. Elissa had put a dagger through his heart, and now the Disciples of Andraste had failed; all of them were dead and the brother was now to lead them to the Urn he claimed really did exist.

Eirik had not known that Elissa also had a sacred duty, and the failure to protect Thedas, would be the _greatest_ of sins.

“We must go”. Elissa’s voice was hoarse. Solona nodded and avoided to look at the dead children. She and Elissa both had to help Alistair get up on his feet.

“I’m sorry I failed you, again”. Alistair sounded so cracked that Elissa couldn’t be angry with him. She, too, felt as if she was to erupt into tears at any time given. The horrible image of Oren was stuck on her retina. The crime done to her nephew, she now had committed to several others.

“Do not be, my friend”, Elissa patted his arm, letting her wounded hand fall down to her side, “You are a good, honorable man”.

He let himself be led by Solona back to Genitivi. Elissa hurried to get away from the death scene, and regurgitated when she did. She held a hand to her stomach as she leaned over the ground, falling to her knees. Elissa heard Morrigan approach her; the staff dragged against the snow-covered gravelly ground.

“Go away”, she managed to spit out in between the vomiting. “Go to Genitivi. I will come soon”. 

“No. I must heal your hand”, Morrigan said plainly. She didn’t wait for Elissa to respond before she grabbed it and let a blue flow heal the bleeding wound. Elissa almost choked on the puke as the pain intensified. When the healing was done, Morrigan let Elissa’s hand free and put a hand on the warden’s arched back. It was a bit awkward, Elissa admitted for herself, to have Morrigan trying to comfort her. She was no natural people person, but Elissa thought it was a kind gesture nonetheless. At least she tried.

“Thank you, Morrigan”. Elissa’s eyes were watery – Morrigan didn’t know if it was from nausea or sadness. In truth, she wasn’t very eager to pry into the matter; she didn’t know what one was to say in situations such as these, so she gave her a last glance before she chose to leave for Genitivi as Elissa earlier had told her to. Elissa didn’t miss the pity that filled Morrigans gaze, and was grateful she left.

Elissa tried to gather herself.  _The children would have killed us, and then the Blight would kill all Fereldans… and there was no time to talk sense into them._   _It was the right thing. It must have been._

“Elissa?” Leliana’s voice was soft, careful and full of concern. Elissa hadn’t heard her come. A bard’s footfalls were only heard if they wanted them to be. Leliana hesitated before she took the last steps to her.

“Let us go to the others”, Elissa said without looking at her. “We… we can not stay here”.

“As you wish”, she answered with the lilting voice of hers. “But… remember that I’m here for you. I can only imagine…” She paused. “You did the right thing. The Maker knows it”.

“The Maker knows nothing”, Elissa muttered as they headed to the rest of their companions.

 

*

 

Zevran had looted some of the bodies and managed to find the key on Revered Father Eirik’s body Brother Ferdinand Genitivi had talked to them about. Elissa suggested that Alistair and Solona would stay with the brother while he did some more research, while the rest of them headed to what could be the Urn. Genitivi could need some protection, and Elissa guessed that by the way Alistair looked, he would be too frail to fight if they were to encounter something – or someone. Alistair accepted it without protests, and Solona did the same. Elissa knew that her warden-sister wanted to be there for Alistair. Frost whined as the rest of the pack left the trio behind.

Morrigan walked aside Elissa as they continued their journey to the mythical ashes. Morrigan noticed that she was unusually quiet and withdrawn.

“Ugh. I do  _not_  like this place”, Elissa huffed and her words echoed between the stone walls. They walked around in what felt like circles, and the air was cold and damp - it felt as if the cold penetrated her bones.

“Really?”, Morrigan wondered with a somewhat sarcastic tone. “It seems to fit your mood.”

“Ha-bloody-ha”. Elissa shook her head, and her tone turned dull. Morrigan heard how worn her voice sounded. ”It is just what happened back at the village…”

“I am well aware”. Morrigan pulled down her hood. “I… I did not mean anything by it”.

”You of all people do not have to explain yourself for me”. A pause. “You… You are getting better at healing”. Elissa was keen on changing the subject, and showed Morrigan her injured hand. “Almost as good as new”.

Morrigan snorted as she gave the hand a quick glance. “It looks like it has been used as a mabari chew toy”.

Elissa managed to let out a chuckle. “At least someone has had good use of it then, if it were so”.

“Hm. Like that Songbird of yours, maybe?” Morrigan arched her brow. She knew how to tease her friend, and found it equally as amusing every time.

Elissa rolled her eyes. “I think I liked it better when you were quiet,  _Blackbird_ ”.

“I would hate to make life easy for you”, Morrigan shrugged.

Elissa didn’t respond and they continued forward through the cramped aisles. She felt Leliana’s eyes burn into her back. She told herself that she  _must_  stop avoiding her every time things get uncomfortable, and as soon they found the ashes…

 

“Stop!” A male, disembodied voice shouted, seemingly out from nowhere. The voice was as cold as the air. “You will go no further”.

Elissa groaned.  _More trouble_.  

“And who are you?” she shouted back, and she soon saw wherefrom the voice came. They had arrived at a bigger hall, and an armored man stood in the middle of the room, glaring at them. He wasn’t alone.

“You do not have the right to demand my name. You have defiled our temple. You have spilled the blood of the faithful, and slaughtered our young”. Elissa froze at the last words. She felt acid bile rose in her throat, but forced it down. Wynne stepped forward and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, noticing the warden’s guilt.

“No more!”, the man continued with a harsh tone, “You will tell me now, intruder, why you have done all this. Why have you come here?”

“Tell me your name, and I will tell you why we are here”. Elissa was tired of both playing games with zealots, and this forsaken place. She just wanted to leave Haven and never look back.  _This will soon be nothing more than a foul memory_. Her hand throbbed; she was nauseous and just plain tired. The man in front of her obliged, to her surprise.

“I am Father Kolgrim, leader and guide to the Disciples of Andraste. Kill us, and you will face Andraste. She will smell our blood and the blood of her children on you and Her wrath will be great”.

Elissa heard Leliana grit her teeth and Wynne now focused on keeping her calm instead of Elissa. She stared back at him and by reflex, her wounded hand searched for the Cousland sword. She winced as the pain from her hand sang in her arm, and let her left hand grab the dagger instead. It was still covered in blood from the villagers, and more importantly, the  _children_. She tried not to look at it. Her vision slightly blurred.

“I will risk it”, she hissed, and her companions immediately prepared for battle. Zevran with his dagger, Wynne and Morrigan with their staffs and Leliana with her longbow. Leliana nicked an arrow before Elissa even had time to react, and the arrowhead embedded itself in Kolgrim’s eye.

Leliana had no compassion for murderous heretics. The Father’s men first looked at the killed priest in shock before they quickly composed themselves. They charged at them, screaming in anger and sorrow for their fallen leader. Elissa threw her dagger into one of the men’s necks, and he fell down on the stone floor with a crack. Morrigan charged a lightning spell and when Elissa sprinted to retrieve her dagger, she felt something hard hit the back of her head. Her body numbed, and all went black.

 

*

 

When she regained her consciousness, the hostile men were already dead. Wynne and Morrigan healed Leliana and Zevran respectively. Elissa felt awful – her head pounded as if it was metal hammered by a blacksmith. Despite that, her heart raced when she saw the state of her companions. If anyone of them were to die…

Elissa groaned, rubbing the back of her head. “What… happened?”. She leaned forward and vomited as the room began to spin.

Wynne threw her a glance before she returned to focus on Leliana’s injured shoulder. “Do you remember, child?”

Elissa shook her head, wiping away the acid fluid from her lips. “I… No. I fear I do not”. She spat on the floor.

Wynne hummed as she let blue half-liquid flow into Leliana’s shoulder. “The hopefully last of the Disciples of Andraste tried to kill us. It was a close call, both for Zevran and Leliana”.

Elissa turned to the elf first, afraid to see how bad Leliana’s damage was. “How are you feeling, Zevran?”

Zevran grimaced, but managed to put on a small smile. “Nothing I’ve not been through before, my lady warden”. Elissa wrinkled her nose – she didn’t trust the elf, but there was no bad blood between them. What he did to her and Truce was not more than a job; and more importantly, he failed to do it and later showed to be a useful asset for them.

She knew she would take a blow for the assassin, if she had to, tired of all death surrounding her. Morrigan stood up and ignored Zevran’s thanks. She had clearly not forgiven him yet.

Elissa swallowed and dared to turn her attention to Leliana, whose beautiful face had lost all its color. Elissa sat down next to her, and when Wynne nodded that the healing was done, Elissa helped Leliana lay down so that her head rested on Elissa’s lap. Leliana’s blue eyes looked up to her, and Elissa fondled with her red hair. She felt a lump in her throat.

“What happened, Leli? Maybe you are not as good with the bow as I thought?”. Elissa tried to smile and Leliana chuckled, grimacing as her shoulder hurt. The sound of her laughter was not as strong as usual, and Elissa’s chest tightened.

“She took an arrow for you, when you lost unconsciousness”, Wynne explained as she sat down on the cold ground, watching them. “She will be fine, given some time. There was no significant nerve damage”.

“Thank you, Wynne”. Elissa nodded to the older mage before her gaze returned to her lover that was cradled in her lap. “Oh, Leli… I am so, so sorry”, Elissa mumbled. Her vision was a blur from tears demanding to fall. Leliana clasped her hand with Elissa’s, and Elissa brought Leliana’s hand to her lips and kissed every delicate finger, ignoring that the others saw them. “Sweet… Do not ever do that again. I am not worth it”.

“Don’t be sorry, Elissa”, Leliana whispered mildly. “If I have to, I _will_ do it again. We all need you - _Ferelden_ needs you”.

Elissa averted her gaze and stared into the stone wall.

“I know you would, Leli, and… that scares me. I have lost… so many”. Silent tears poured down Elissa’s cheeks. Everything came to her at once. Iona, Gilmore, Nan, Mother, Father, Oren, Oriana, Fergus, Duncan, Cailan, Truce… and now the children back at the village. “Death is a disease, a curse that is following me”. Leliana stroked the tears away from Elissa’s cheek with a gentle thumb.

“It is not”. Her voice was soft and Elissa wanted to drown in it. “What happened back at Highever and Ostagar was not your fault. What happened to Truce”, Zevran looked down to the stone floor as he heard Leliana speak of what was his doing, “was not your fault. We are trying to fight against the fifth Blight, Elissa. People will get injured and die. And it will never be your fault”.

“Unless”, Morrigan added with a dry tone, “’Tis you who kill them”.  Wynne sighed and shook her head while Leliana rolled with her eyes. Elissa felt a small smile pull her lips.

“I would take an arrow for you too, you know”, Elissa said with a low voice and brushed Leliana’s shoulder. She looked up to the rest of them. “I would do the same for all of you”. Her voice was now strong, refilled with energy. “We, together, shall slay the archdemon and save Thedas. We –“

A high pitched shriek interrupted her and everyone rose up to their feet, startled, as they covered their ears. They had never heard anything like that. Elissa squeezed Leliana’s hand as she ran to the arched exit and let her gaze seek the sound’s source. Outside, the snow fell thick and dense. The view was foggy, and it was hard to distinguish the other mountain tops.

“Wynne, Morrigan”. Elissa turned around to them with fear and determination battling each other in her eyes. “I need you to strap my sword to my injured hand. It seems as I must practice for the archdemon”.


	22. Chapter 22

“Lovely. Now we’ll die fighting a dragon, while looking for the remains of a dead woman”. Morrigan shook her head in disbelief. There was no way they could survive this. Both Zevran and Leliana were wounded, Elissa’s sword-hand ruined and Sten, Solona and Alistair were _hours_ away. Elissa was reckless. For only a minute ago, she had preached on how much their lives meant for her, and now she was ready to let them be served to a dragon as a snack.

Elissa crouched where she looked out from the entrance, hypnotized by the reptilian creature that flew in the distance. Morrigan, Wynne, Leliana, and Zevran stood next to each other, all desperately wanting to change her mind.

“Morrigan, Leliana”, Elissa said with a slightly absent-mindedly, “You have to stay back and make sure to charge at her eyes. If she can not see, we might have a fair chance”. She fiddled with a pebble in her healthy hand. “Wynne, you need to make sure Morrigan and Leliana are protected by a barrier. This… Andraste reborn is fond of fire. You should all equip shields, just in case”. She turned her head and looked at her companions. Morrigan furrowed her brows. Elissa wasn’t herself, her eyes wore a distant gaze.

“This is most foolish, Elissa. If you go through with this, you are even more stupid than Alistair”. Morrigan crossed her arms.

“Maybe”. Elissa shrugged her shoulders, still playing with the small stone. “But we have not gotten this far only to turn back”. She paused and locked her eyes with the elf’s. “Zevran?”

“Yes, my lady warden?” He looked into her eyes, not fretting.

“Your part is crucial. Once the creature is without its sight, I need you to act as bait. She must bow down her head and be focused on you, so that I may jump up on her back. Do you know how to handle a sword and shield?”

Zevran shook his head. “Not well”, he admitted and Elissa sighed, rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Daggers won’t work”. She pointed to a fallen cultist. “Take his blade and shield. You just have to stay alive and do what I just said. And… try to hit her legs”. She turned away her head and returned to follow the dragon with her eyes. "We must be careful, not to encounter any drakes or dragonlings. Hopefully, they are far away from this place". 

Wynne narrowed her brows, whispering to those by her side. “Are we really going through with this?”. Zevran nodded. Sure - he wanted to live; he loved his life. It was filled with men, women, and wine. But, Elissa had saved his life when few would and he had sworn loyalty to her. Plus, it did not exactly hurt that killing a dragon would make a Void of a story – if they survived…

Leliana dragged a hand through her red, short hair, sighing. “ _Oui._ The Sacred Ashes must be in the temple on the other side. They are crucial against the Blight. The Grey Wardens need the country’s support, and it is only Arl Eamon who can give them that. Brother Genitivi said the ashes are the only thing that can save the arl's life. And, regarding the dragon, Elissa at least seems to have a strategy…”. Leliana couldn’t hide her insecurity as she began to clench and unclench her hands.

Morrigan snorted but said nothing. Her amber eyes darted between Elissa and the rest of them, thinking.

Wynne looked to Elissa. “This better work, Elissa. But, I must say, that I think we should go get Sten, Solona, and Alistair if we are to do fight that creature”.

Elissa shook her head. “Wynne, this _will_ work. Of this, I have no doubt. Take some time to rest, before we confront it. We do not have time to spare.” _If we don’t do this now, my cowardice will take over._ “Now, I… I need to think”.

Leliana hesitantly went to Elissa’s side while the others made a fire and dragged away the dead bodies.

“If we find the Urn on the other side, Leli, I will start to believe”, Elissa said plainly without looking at her. “And it scares me. How could someone create a world filled with so much pain?”

Leliana crouched next to her and saw the flying dragon for the first time. Her heart missed a beat and she grasped Elissa’s hand. Although she was afraid, she found strength from the woman next to her. “This world may not always feel beautiful.", Leliana mused. "But it can be. Just look - look at the majestic mountains. How are mountains to exist without earthquakes?”

Elissa sat quietly for a moment before she opened her mouth, contemplating what Leliana just said. _I love the way she looks at the world. Despite everything she has been through, she can see and appreciate beauty._  

“Leli, I must... uh. I am sorry for pulling away from you, you know, before we entered Haven. We both are women”, Elissa felt her cheek redden from the obvious statement, “and I am taught to hide such… things”.

Leliana pulled her into a gentle embrace. “I am – _was_ , a bard”, she whispered into Elissa’s ear, and Elissa felt her neck hair prickle when Leli’s warm breath met her skin. Elissa heard the smile Leliana wore on her lips as she continued, “I am good at keeping secrets”.

Elissa inclined her head towards Leliana’s, and let her lips linger over the others. “I can not describe how glad I am to have you here. Maker or no Maker, your vision was my blessing”.

Leliana looked into Elissa’s eyes, and found that they reminded her of a forest in the summer. They had the color of a dark, deep green, and one could get lost in them. Their faces were now so close; she could practically taste Elissa’s salty lips. She squealed in surprise when Elissa suddenly grasped her collar and pulled her closer, stealing a desperate kiss. Leliana softened and kissed her back, and let a quiet rumble leave her throat before she slowly withdrew. Leliana’s breaths were heavy and Elissa had to gather herself – she stood up and remembered they weren’t alone. Leliana chuckled as Elissa’s face reddened.

“It is a shame you stopped when you did”, Zevran said with a melodramatic voice and a lop-sided smile. Elissa shook her head, but felt a grin tug her lips.

“Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe we will never do anything you already have not already seen, Zevran”, Elissa jested back, folding her arms over her chest.

Zevran clucked. “That might be the absolute truth, my lady warden, but one never complains about having to eat several portions of dessert”.

“Well, then you –“ Elissa’s lighthearted response was interrupted by the dragon’s shriek, and the good mood within the cave altered. Elissa felt her throat go parched and her hands quivered.

“It is time”. She looked at her companions. “Go get your shields. If something goes wrong, you all fall back and go to Alistair and Solona. Zevran”, she turned to the elf, “Your mission out there is _not_ to save my life. Distract the dragon and retreat _immediately_ if I fall. Morrigan”, she went to the witch and whispered. “If you are right, and this is the wrong, foolish choice that leads to my death, you can ask Solona for help with Flemeth. She will help you.” Morrigan shook her head and put a hand on Elissa’s arm.

“You will not perish today. Yes, you are a stupid, reckless fool, but... I will have your back. My... friend”. Elissa raised her brows in surprise - this was the first time Morrigan had said a thing like that, and Elissa gave her a pale smile as the initial surprise faded.

Despite the adrenaline that threatened to overwhelm Elissa's body, she began having doubts. Morrigan noticed the small beads of sweat that erupted on her forehead.

“Wynne”, Elissa turned to the older Circle mage. “Keep track of your mana. Communicate with the others if you begin to feel tired. We all must retreat if you get exhausted. You are our irreplaceable lifeline. Be careful”.  

Leliana had gathered a pile of arrows from Kolgrim’s soldiers. “ _Oui._ I know what to do”. She had a serious gaze. “Aim for its eyes and try not to be fried in the process”.

“That... sounds about right”, Elissa nodded and she rubbed her arm nervously. She picked up her shield and buckled her left forearm in it. “Could you help me strap my sword in my hand?”. She looked helplessly to Wynne and Morrigan. They both went to her in silence. Morrigan pulled out the broad sword from Elissa's sheath and put it into her hand. Wynne then pressed Elissa’s fingers around the cold hilt, and Elissa choked a scream. The pain flashed all the way from her hand to her shoulder. _This is stupid, stupid, stupid._ Elissa bit her tongue and felt the metallic, warm liquid fill her mouth. Wynne mumbled a spell that stiffened Elissa’s hand muscles.

“Swing it, dear child, and let’s see how well this works”.  Elissa did as the older mage ordered. The movements weren’t as swift and precise as they used to be, but it worked better than she had expected. _But the pain_ …  
“I could numb your hand”, Wynne said as if she could read her thoughts.

“No, thank you”, Elissa answered as she felt sour bile fill her throat. “I must be able to feel”.

“’Tis not too late to change your mind, Elissa”. Morrigan had now picked up a shield as well and strapped it to her left forearm, just as Elissa had done. “I can go get the others.”

“Alistair must recover, and Solona will not be at her best if she is worried about him”. Elissa bit her lip. “Sten, however…” Elissa’s shoulders drooped. “But no. This is happening. Now”. Elissa sucked in air into her lungs, trying to enter the blank state of one who’s going into war. _No thoughts, no feelings, no fear. Shut down and let instincts take over._ “I will drink and lit my pipe on the dragon’s fire when this is over”, she tried to lighten their mood and she sought each one’s gaze. She lingered with Leliana’s a bit longer than the others. _You are brilliant, sweet bird._ Elissa took another deep breath, and now her mind was determined. She had accepted what was about to happen. She straightened her back and steel covered her gaze. Her companions noticed the transformation.

This is how a true commander looks, Wynne admitted to herself.

Elissa’s voice was clear when she spoke. “Then the Maker said; In your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame, all-consuming and never satisfied. My dear comrades, let that be the only flame that burns us today. This is _not_ the day we die.” Elissa got down on one knee before them and bowed her head. “I am honored to have you all by my side. I am proud that I one day will say, that we together defeated the Blight. But first, let the people know us as dragon slayers”. She raised her head and grinned. Elissa stood back up and watched as her companions prepared themselves. When all of them had a shield, either equipped or on their back, Elissa nodded to them. Her jaw tensed, and she turned around, stepped out of the cave.

“Andraste!”, she called for the dragon with the full capacity of her lungs. She continued to wade forward in the knee-deep snow. Zevran was right behind her. “We must find better ground, or you'll drown”. The shorter Zevran mumbled a response, and Elissa let her eyes wander over the landscape. She found a good spot. “You three!”, she yelled to the two mages and the rogue, “climb up on that boulder.” She pointed at one of two large stones, where the larger of them could provide some protection. _That will also ease their retreat._

The dragon shrieked in the distance. Elissa watched it flew closer, and her heart leaped to her throat she realized it had spotted them. The cold had already numbed her fingertips and she groaned as her hand pounded. She hurried to the spot she had chosen for the confrontation, and when Leliana was about to climb up the boulder, she grasped her arm. Her eyes were filled with anxious fear.

“Though darkness closes, you are shielded by flame. Sweet Leli, you can trust the Maker's Bride to guide you. Her ashes may be only a hundred meters away. Do not fear. It is  _not_ your time”.  _I won't allow it._ Leliana nodded, tense and ready for battle. Elissa freed her grip and Leliana climbed up to the other two. Elissa caught Morrigan’s gaze, and the apostate nodded to her.  _Be careful, my friend._

Elissa ran back to Zevran. He looked lost holding a sword and shield and she did her best to correct his posture. “Dance with her”, Elissa said to him as the dragon’s leathery wing beats sounded through the air. “Dance, and when she bows to you, I'll make sure the dance will end”. Zevran swallowed hard before he nodded, and seemed a bit more confident. He put a hand on Elissa’s shoulder, not saying a word. Elissa let her gaze wander to Wynne. The Senior Enchanter held her staff, ready.

The dragon shrieked, and they all covered their ears. Elissa and Zevran fell to the ground with a _bang_ as the wave of pressure from the reptilian’s wings erupted when it prepared for landing. Elissa’s eyes widened as she saw the creature in front of her. It was much bigger than she'd imagined.

“Fuck,” she gasped and Zevran looked at her with an expression that pretty much said the same. It was now too late to pull back. Zevran was quick to get back on his feet, and Elissa crawled on all four before she managed to get up. The adrenaline that pumped in her body made her forget about the pain in the hand. She stood up and looked into the dragon’s eyes. She gulped – its gaze reminded her a bit too much of her nightmares' archdemon. The dragon roared at her, and its rotten, warm breath embraced her. “I will not die today”, she whispered for herself, trying to focus. The dragon raised its head. “Watch out!” Elissa screamed as she sprinted out of the dragon’s way. It opened its mouth and spat fire where she just had stood.  
“Morrigan, Leliana!” Elissa yelled so her lungs felt hoarse. _They must make her lose her vision._ She saw an arrow flying in the dragon’s direction. It missed, and met the dragon’s hard scales before it fell down to the ground. Elissa rushed to the dragon’s hind leg and lifted her sword. With a scream she let the weapon tore a rip in its thick skin. Before she even had time to think, she automatically charged again and swung her blade down into its pulsating flesh. The dragon waved angrily with its wings and its head was about to swoop on Elissa when she heard Zevran. She could hear Alistair's voice - swooping _is_ bad.

“I am here!” he screamed. “ _Hijo de la chingada_!”  He raised his sword and ran to one of the creature’s forelegs. He carried his sword and shield wrong. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ The dragon opened its jaw, prepared to snap at the elf, when an ice bolt hit its left eye. The organ crystallized and the reptilian screamed with a flaming breath. Zevran was just in time to raise his shield before the flames melted the snow around him. An arrow embedded itself in the dragon’s icy eye and it shattered. Pieces of the eye fell down on the ground like icicles. 

Elissa screamed. “Dance, Zev! _Dance_!”. Zevran sprinted to the dragon’s other side, quick as only an Antivan Crow or someone fearing for his life could be, and Elissa rolled under the creature’s stomach. The Andraste reborn had just one eye now. _And it only has to bow its head_ … She heard an anguished scream, then the sound of bones that cracked against something hard and dense. She searched for the elf. He had been thrown against one of the boulders. His body was limb, and steamy, dark blood poured out over the white snow. The dragon lowered its head, about to lift Zevran with her rotten teeth. Elissa heard Leliana curse, panic vibrating in her voice.

Elissa’s felt her heart beat against the chest as if she was a drum, and she ran as she’d never ran before. One foot before the other, her calves tensed, and she held her breath as she jumped up on the dragon’s slightly unfolded wing. She gasped - the dragon now turned its attention to her, ready to spit fire. Elissa hid behind her shield, and screamed in pain as the metal that shielded her from the flames burned into her skin. The dragon unfolded its wings completely, and when Elissa almost tumbled from the sudden move, she looked down at the ground in horror. _If I fall, we will all die here._ She took a deep breath and felt her lungs burn from exhaustion. She jumped from the dragon’s wing to its back, and she raised her sword and plunged it in between the beast’s shoulders. Its skin was tough and leathery, and her body sang in pain as she had to put all of her weight and strength to force the blade sink down into it. The dragon screamed in agony, and something in her head snapped. Elissa felt warm liquid pour down her neck, and it tickled her. _My eardrums must have exploded_. She saw that Wynne now had raised a barrier around Zevran, and Morrigan’s face was covered in soot. _Where is Leli? And why doesn’t the dragon fucking die?!_ She looked at her sword. Its whole blade was embedded in its flesh, and dark blood made the scales slippery. Her vision blurred, her eyes dimmed with tears and blood. Snow whipped her face. She groaned, and tried to pull out her sword. It was stuck. _She_ was stuck, she realized, unable to release the sword’s hilt from her wounded, magically stiffened hand. She took a shaky breath, and felt how her energy began to fade away. _I have doomed us all_.

The earth sighed of release as the dragon began pounding her wings, prepared to take off. _I am not more than a tick on her back._ Elissa began to shiver, and her ruptured eardrums howled in her head. She found it hard to keep balance. Elissa heard muffled screams – it must be her companions, but she couldn’t hear their words. Strands of air that had escaped from her braid tickled her nose and woke her from stoicism. In the corner of her eye, she saw Morrigan send ice bolts against the dragon’s face, followed by a whole array of arrows. They must have blinded the dragon’s other eye, and the beast stopped trying to fly away. Elissa felt a burden release from her shoulders. _Leli’s alive. Maker, thank you, she is alive._ With newfound energy, Elissa pulled the sword upwards, and it slowly let itself be dragged out from the dragon’s enclosing flesh. The pulsating blood that left the wound made her lose her footing, and she fell down to the ground. Despite the snow that should have cushioned her fall, she heard something in her crush. Her body was numb, and it felt as if time stood still. She was unable to locate what had been damaged. She closed her heavy eyelids. _I could go to sleep now, and no one would judge me._ Seconds later, a gust of warm wind forced her to reopen the eyes and she put her gaze on the dragon’s stomach. _I am a Grey Warden. A Cousland. I won’t give up that easily._ With aching muscles, Elissa dug her shield hand into the freezing snow, trying to find solid ground that could help her stand up. She found it. She pressed her body upwards and got up on wavering legs. She knew what to do. The creature now reared on its hind legs, clawing the air in blind confusion. Elissa heard Leliana scream, and the dragon roared. With weak muscles, Elissa sprinted towards the dragon’s exposed stomach. She plunged upward with her blood-covered sword, and she jumped so high she could. Elissa felt the blade pierce through its leathery skin. Gravity pulled her down, and the blade made a clean cut down along the reptile’s abdomen, disemboweled it. The dragon silenced as its intestines flushed out from its stomach, burying Elissa.

Morrigan saw the scene in front of her unfold with disbelief. Leliana stood by her side, gasping with widened eyes, unable to speak. The dragon convulsed, dying, and fell onto her stomach. The earth shook as the heavy creature met the ground where Elissa just had stood.

“Elissa”. Morrigan’s throat felt dry and sank down on her knees, her hand grasping the air in front of her. Wynne lowered her arm slowly and the protecting barrier dissolved. The older mage returned to her senses, remembered Zevran and hurried to climb down the boulder. She ran to him as she threw away her shield. Wynne crouched by the elf’s side. He was in bad shape - his breaths were fast and shallow. She began healing him, and hoped it wasn’t too late.

She refused to lose two companions in one day.


	23. Chapter 23

Leliana buried her face in Morrigan’s shoulder; her warm tears drenched the cool textile. Her body shook as agony blazed through her. Morrigan flinched from the closeness, but chose not to withdraw. They both usually kept their distance, but just as the night when Truce passed, the two women found comfort in each other. Morrigan reluctantly let her arms wrap around her back.

Zevran coughed as he lay on the freezing ground, waking up from unconsciousness. As his dimmed vision cleared, he spotted the fallen dragon. His eyes lit up.

“We did it?”, he asked, and scowled in pain as he coughed up phlegm mixed with blood. Wynne looked with a creased forehead at him as she wiped away the blood from his lips.

“We did”, she answered him, with a tone that warned him this wasn’t a victory. Zevran narrowed his brows before he tried to sit up. The movement made him gasp in pain. “You had broken several ribs, but I’ve healed them”, she explained solemnly. He nodded before he surrendered to his bruised ribs, and fell back onto the snow. He let his gaze wander over his companions. Someone was missing.

“But… where is she?”. Zevran’s facial expression was filled with confusion, and then he realized Morrigan actually let someone _hug_ her. That must mean…

“Is she dead?” The Antivan Crow croaked, and when none answered, he incredulously shook his head. "She is dead".

Wynne averted her gaze, and looked at the dragon. She nodded. “She… was brave. I… I actually thought we all were going to make it”. Her voice broke and she buried her face in her hands.

“We should arrange a pyre for her”. Morrigan still held the heartbroken Leliana in a tight embrace, and tried not to succumb to the sorrow as well. She had to keep her voice as flat as possible to trick herself into indifference. “She... deserves peace”. If there had been anyone other than Elissa, Morrigan hadn’t cared. The dead didn’t know if they had a funeral or not. But something in her wanted to show Elissa her respect.

“Leliana”, Wynne stood up and gently brushed the woman’s shaking back, “could you help Zevran get back to the cave? He must get his body temperature up.” Leliana jerked away from Morrigan’s embrace and turned to Wynne with furious eyes.

She pointed a quivering finger at him as she stared at her. “He, who tortured her!? He, who killed Truce!? No, Wynne. I will not help him”. Leliana spat on the ground, and the freezing air almost turned it into ice. Wynne took a step back, aghast. She had never seen Leliana like this, and some part in her hadn’t thought she even could harbor feelings like hate.

Now it was Morrigan’s turn to speak. “Elissa told us that if anything were to happen to her, we all would retreat. That includes… the assassin. She _wanted_ him to live”. Wynne looked at them with a puzzled gaze. It was as if their roles, for a mere moment, had shifted.

Leliana’s ire faded away and her heart withered. She bowed her head. “You’re right”. She went straight to Zevran and helped him up. His body was weak and another coughing attack tore his body asunder. “I’m sorry”, she whispered to him as they slowly went to the cave.

Morrigan and Wynne stood in silence as the two walked away. They looked at each other with heavy chests. “We should have convinced her to get the others”, Wynne said remorsefully. Morrigan let a sigh leave through her parted lips. Snowflakes melted as they landed on shoulders.

“She is… _was_ , stubborn, and she had already made up her mind. She would have gone out to fight the beast on her own if we were to delay it”. Morrigan shook her head, watched the blood-stained snow beneath her, thinking that Elissa'sdeath, also was her death sentence _. Solona isn’t strong enough to slay Mother._ “Let us find her body. She shall have an honorable pyre”, Morrigan continued. Wynne noticed the slight, emotional tremble in her voice. They shared a last glance, before they slowly paced to the dragon.

Wynne rubbed her forehead. They had to overcome another obstacle before they could allow themselves to begin mourning. “How are we to… extract her?”. The dragon must have weighed tons. Morrigan let her index finger caress her lips, a movement that always soothed her, as she pondered the options.

“I do not know”, she confessed after a long moment. She began to circle the reptilian creature. And that was when Morrigan saw it.

“Wynne!”, she called. “Come!”. Wynne hurried to get to Morrigan, and her eyes widened when she laid eyes on what Morrigan had seen. Elissa’s lower part of the body was stuck beneath the dragon’s weight, but her chest, head, and arms were free. Elissa still held a firm grip around her bloodied sword. Wynne rushed to her and let her hands hover over Elissa’s body.

“She’s alive”, she whispered, stunned. “She’s alive!”. Morrigan ran to her side, and Wynne saw a stray tear leave her amber eyes. “We must drag her out”, Wynne said and the two mages worked together to free Elissa. After quite some time of struggling, they succeeded. Wynne gasped as she saw the state of the crushed woman’s body. She considered herself to be an experienced healer, but this... 

Morrigan crouched next to Elissa, and held her breath as she tried to lift her up. Elissa was heavier than she looked, Morrigan thought, as she forced every muscle in her body to not drop her. Wynne came to her side, and together they carried her back to the cave. Leliana gagged when she saw what she believed was Elissa’s dead body.

“ _Why_ are you taking her here?” she wondered with a cracked voice. Did they wish to torment her any further?

“She is alive”, Wynne panted as she and Morrigan carefully lay Elissa next to the fire. Her arms and back ached. “Go alert the others of what happened”, Wynne told Morrigan who didn’t waste time answering her, but transformed herself into a raven and flew away into the cave system. Leliana rose up from her sitting position, and walked to Elissa with insecure steps. Zevran craned his head to get a good look at Elissa. Her whole body was covered in the dragon’s blood. And her own.

“Are… you certain of that?”, Zevran asked, and Leliana stared at him. Even though she hoped, she had to agree with him. She surely didn’t look alive.

Wynne clasped Elissa’s fist that held the sword. She mumbled a spell, and when the hand relaxed, the sword dropped to the stone floor with a metallic clang. Leliana’s vision dimmed as she saw Elissa’s crushed legs and hip. “How… How can she even be alive, Wynne?”

“She certainly has a strong will, child, I can tell you that”, Wynne answered as she put her hands to Elissa’s legs. Wynne closed her eyes as she concentrated on healing the broken body beneath her. Cracked bones, severed veins and torned flesh slowly mended together to their original state. Leliana sat down beside them, waddling, with her arms wrapped around her knees, and watched Elissa’s chest rise and fall in line with her ragged breathing.

 

*

 

Alistair sat on a pile of stones, cleaning his sword with a bit of cloth. Solona spoke with Brother Genitivi about an artifact he studied.

 _Maker._ Every time he blinked, he saw the children’s lifeless bodies. He groaned, and Solona's head swirled to his direction. Worry filled her eyes, and she soon left Genitivi to his work. With determined steps she came up to him instead. Alistair could no longer hold onto his stature. His shoulder’s drooped and he dropped the sword to the ground. Solona pulled him into a gentle embrace.

“I am here for you, Alistair”, she whispered and he buried his face into her neck.

“I know”, he said hoarsely. “I… am so indescribably happy that I met you”. He softly pulled away and let a calloused thumb stroke her warm cheek. She smiled at him, and he thought that her smile must be the most beautiful in the entire world. She hesitated at first, but let her lips brush against his. He put a hand around her neck, and the kiss deepened. A quiet moan left her, and Brother Genitivi cleared his throat. Solona and Alistair withdrew from each other, both blushing.

“Please, accept my apologies, Brother”, Alistair chuckled lightly and shared a quick glance with Solona. Her presence was better for his mind than any spell or potion could be. Genitivi only smiled at them.

“There’s no need, Wardens. I just didn’t want you to forget you’re not alone”. Alistair looked back on Solona. Her lips were a bit swollen, and his chest turned warm.

They heard a rattling sound, and they all turned their heads to the source, prepared for a fight. Solona lowered her staff when she saw who it was, mouth agape. Morrigan stood there, in front of them, naked and panting for air. Alistair immediately turned away his eyes, and Genitivi did the same.

“We have killed a dragon and Elissa is almost dead”, Morrigan got out, cawing. “I’ll get Sten. But you, you should go to them”. Morrigan groaned as she took on her raven form once again, and continued her way, wings flapping as if a hawk was after her.

Solona gasped. They did what? “Oh, Maker’s breath. Did I hear right? A dragon? What has she done?". Solona hunkered at Alistair's side. "Alistair, we must go to them!”, she exclaimed, and turned her head to Genitivi, asking, “Do you want to come with us, Brother?”.

Genitivi shook his head. “Thank you, but I’d rather wait here.” He pondered a thought. “If she is dying”, he added, “the ashes should be able to save her”.

Solona helped Alistair buckle on his armor, and when he put his hands into his gauntlets, Solona came to miss his warmth. Instead of sulking, her grip around her staff hardened. Alistair rose up and furrowed his brows, worried about their warden-sister’s state. “Are you ready?”, he asked and Solona nodded fiercely.

“I am. Let’s go to her”.

 

*

 

“I can’t do more for her”, Wynne exhaled. She looked exhausted, and wrung her hands. Elissa moaned in pain, her eyelids fluttering.

“Zev?”, she asked with eyes still closed. 

Zevran coughed before he could answer. “I’m here, Elissa.”

“And... Leli?”

Leliana’s chest tightened as Elissa asked about her. She moved closer to her and carefully cradled Elissa’s head in her lap. “We are all fine, _mon Coeur_. You should worry about yourself instead, for once”

“Yes. Oh, it… hurts”, Elissa groaned and Leliana wiped away a tear that escaped the edge of Elissa’s eye.

“I should put her to sleep”, Wynne murmured and gently pressed the pads of her fingers against Elissa’s temples.

“No”, Elissa whispered. “I want to know I am alive”.

Wynne lowered her hands, and watched as Leliana carefully and with deft fingers removed Elissa’s braid and began to untangle the of blood hardened strands of hair. Leliana hummed a calm melody, and Elissa’s pained features seemed to relax slightly at the sound.

“Leli?”, Elissa wondered weakly. Her eyelids were still too heavy, and she too tired to open them.

Leliana focused wholeheartedly on the pale warden, and Wynne knew that she made an effort not to cry at the sorry sight. “Mmh?”

Wynne shook her head, almost furiously, as she felt her heart swell at the sight of the two together. Neither of them disturbed this much heartbreak. Elissa and Leliana were so different from each other, yet they seemed to have grown to _need_ one another. If Elissa had perished, Wynne was sure that Leliana’s good-natured heart would have vanished and been replaced with something completely else.

“When this is over, I want to take you to Highever”. A short pause where Elissa took a deep breath, and her body shivered in pain. “I know you miss your old life --“ she coughed and it sounded as if her lungs would inflate. “I will do anything to give you that again. Parties, dresses… shoes”.

Leliana crooned, trying to smile. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, sweet”.

Elissa finally forced herself to pry her eyes open and searched the blur for Leliana’s. When she found them – her light in the darkness, Elissa murmured; “I never do”. Then, she slowly let her gaze sweep down to her own legs. Her eyes widened in panic as she realized she couldn’t control them. “I… I can not move. Wynne, I can not move!".

Wynne knew what she had to do and crept up to Elissa whose breathing rate had rapidly increased. “It’s only for a short while, my child”, Wynne assured her, and put her splayed hands against Elissa’s sweaty temples. She mumbled a sleeping spell and the frantic woman faded into unconsciousness.

“Do you think she’ll be able to walk again?”. Leliana stilled the hand in Elissa’s hair and looked at Wynne as Elissa's breathing had evened.  

“I do not know”, Wynne said honestly, and stood up, watching the dancing fire. “It is impossible to say”. Zevran turned his head towards the aisles that led further into the mountain. He tensed.

“Someone is coming”, he alerted them and reached for his dagger.

“It’s only us!” Solona shouted after a short while. She, Alistair and Frost increased their pace as they closed in on them, and their eyes immediately searched for their warden-sister. Solona's hand flew up to  cover her mouth when she saw her by the fire, and Alistair swayed before they rushed to her. They panted and Wynne reached them a leather bottle filled with water. Alistair nodded his thanks and took a few long drinks from it.

“What has she done now?”, Alistair groaned as he returned the bottle to its owner, and wiped away the water from his lips. Solona crouched next to Elissa and Leliana, and let her palm stroke Elissa’s cheek.

She looked up at Leliana. “Morrigan said something about a dragon?”

Zevran nodded, and Solona and Alistair both turned their heads in his direction as he spoke. “Yes”, he sighed and put his dagger on the ground next to him. He pointed to the cave’s exit. “Please, take a look for yourselves”. Alistair looked at him through slited eyes, before he slowly went where Zevran had pointed, and quietly watched the fallen dragon that laid in the snowy landscape.

“The cultists thought the creature was Andraste”, Wynne explained tiredly. “The human sacrifices were dedicated for her”.

“And the temple?” Alistair asked as he spotted a stone building in the distance.

“Where we hope the Urn of Sacred Ashes is”, Leliana said as she gently stroked Elissa’s face. Solona sat down on the cold floor next to Leliana and put an arm around her waist. Leliana leaned her cheek against Solona’s shoulder, seeking comfort.

“Brother Genitivi said the ashes should be able to help Elissa as well”, Alistair told them.

Wynne rested her cheek against her palm. “When Morrigan returns with Sten, he can carry her there”, she thought out loud. "There is no other way". 

 

*

 

Solona had just cooked some broth when Morrigan returned with Sten. Morrigan immediately hurried to Elissa’s side, and fell down on her knees next to her.

“You put her under a sleeping spell”. Morrigan was expressionless except for a glint of disapproval as she sought Wynne’s exhausted eyes. “’Twas not her wish”.

Wynne nodded as she took a last slurp and put down the bowl. “You are correct. I did it anyway. She was in much pain, Morrigan, and began to panic. It seems as if she can’t move her legs”.  Morrigan didn't respond - instead, she narrowed her eyes and put her fingers against Elissa’s head, waking her up from deep slumber.  
Elissa gasped for air as her body began shiver from pain once again.

“Blackbird”, she whispered when recognition flashed across her eyes, and Morrigan clasped her hand and pressed it gently. Leliana watched them from where she now sat beside Wynne, with a concerned wrinkle between her brows, and eyes red from crying.

“We waste our time here”, Morrigan said to the others while holding Elissa's hand. “We should go to the temple at once.”

Leliana and Solona rose up in unison, and Alistair mirrored them.

Sten went to Elissa’s side, and he silently analyzed her injuries. “So she slew the  _ataashi_ ". He shook his head, disliking their actions. "I will carry _kadan_ to the temple, but I will not enter it. I have no interest in your waste-bin”.  

“It is no waste-bin”, Leliana murmured, too concerned to really care about his heresy. “But thank you”.

“I do not do it for you”, Sten continued. He looked out into the half-dark. “It is late. We will go now”. He watched as Leliana, Solona, and Alistair hurried to get into their armor and picked up their weapons. Sten leaned down to Elissa and carefully lifted her. She muffled a scream and tears streamed down from her cheeks. Morrigan picked up her staff. She was exhausted from flying as a raven for hours, but was not willing to leave Elissa’s side.

Wynne and Zevran chose to stay, tired and injured. “Good luck”, Wynne wished them as they went out in the freezing evening. Zevran hunched in his blanket, and watched as they walked out into the tempest.

“Elissa called me Zev”, he said to Wynne as he played with some dust on the floor.

“What do you mean?” Wynne returned drinking the rest of her broth and glanced at him. Zevran shrugged.

“Dear Wynne. You see, it’s only those who consider themselves to be my friend that calls me Zev”.

“Consider yourself lucky, then”, Wynne responded, her eyes now staring out in the dark. “She is one of a kind, and most of us will never forgive what you did”.

“I know”, he sighed and erased a figure he painted in the dust. “I will never forgive myself as well”.


	24. Chapter 24

By the time the party reached the temple, Elissa no longer whimpered of pain. Alistair held Solona close to him. The wind howled, and as they stepped inside of the old stone building, Solona dried her snow whipped face with the palm of her hand. Frost watched Sten gently lay Elissa down on the floor and both Morrigan and Leliana immediately were by her side. The mabari sought her mistress’ gaze, and Solona gave the dog a small smile.

“Everything’s alright”, Solona assured the hound. It looked as if Frost almost shook her head. Both of them knew her words were untrue. 

“I will leave now, _kadan_ ”, Sten said to Elissa who managed to give him a slight nod in answer, glad to no longer be carried. Sten, who seldom was very sentimental, just spun around and disappeared back out in the tempest. When he had left, Leliana brushed her lips against Elissa’s clammy forehead. Solona sighed deeply as she leaned into Alistair’s safe embrace.

“What if it isn’t here? What if Genitivi is wrong, and the Urn not more than a legend?” She whispered into Alistair’s ear. He shook his head as he answered.

“As we said earlier... _All,_ will be lost”. His voice was quiet when he spoke, so no one else than Solona could hear him. Solona knew he was right. If the Urn did not exist, Arl Eamon would die, Elissa would die and Loghain would probably let Ferelden lose to the Blight. Solona slid her hand into his gauntlet.

A dark, male voice startled the companions, seemingly coming out of nowhere. “I bid you welcome, pilgrims”. Morrigan and Leliana quickly rose to their feet, preparing for combat. A man had appeared in front of them, wearing heavy armor and an ice blue set of eyes.

“I am the Guardian, the protector of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. I have waited years for this”.

Leliana felt her neck hair prickle and she cast Solona and Alistair a hopeful, yet scared, glance. _Then it must be real. Andraste's Urn... exists._

The Guardian looked at Elissa who lay at the cold stone floor in front of him. “For years beyond counting”, he continued without averting his gaze from the wounded woman, “have I been here, and shall remain until my task is done and the Imperium has crumbled into the sea. My brethren and I carried Andraste from Tevinter to this sanctuary, we vowed to forever revere Her memory, and guard Her. I have watched generations of my brethren take up the mantle of their fathers. For centuries they did this, unwavering, joyful, in their appointed task. But now”, he paused for a short moment and Morrigan furrowed her brows to the spirit, “they have lost their way. They have forgotten Andraste, and their promise”. He silenced, and Solona strode forward to him with Alistair close to her.

“We have come to see the Urn”, she said with a calm she did not really possess. Elissa could only stare at the Guardian with widened eyes. She still couldn’t believe the Urn really did exist. But, her interest did not last long. Her surprised visage was soon transformed into one contorted of pain, and she whimpered. 

The Guardian nodded, ignoring the injured completely. “You have come to honor Andraste, and you shall, if you prove yourself worthy”. He let his eyes sweep over the people that had entered the temple. “But before you go”; he continued, “there is something I must ask. I see that the path that led you here was not easy.” His eyes returned to Elissa, who now was as pale as a sheet. First now he paid her any further attention. “There is suffering in your past. Your suffering, and the suffering of others.” His eyes now turned back up to Solona’s. “You betrayed Jowan and Lily. She was killed and if Jowan had not escaped, he would have followed her fate. Tell me, Solona, do you think you failed them?”.

Solona shuddered and felt how her legs weakened at the memory. It felt like ages ago, but now it hit her with full power. _Lily_ … Solona let her eyes slid close. _My best friend. You shouldn’t have died… but it was_ not _my fault._ Solona realized she hadn’t had the time to fully mourn Lily’s death yet. Only a few days after Lily was sent to her Harrowing, she had joined the Order, and after that... “No”. Her voice was raspy but surprisingly firm. “They shouldn’t have tried to escape in such a way. The fault is not mine”.

The Guardian nodded, and he seemed to approve of her answer. “Then you do not dwell on past mistakes, neither yours nor someone else’s”.  His gaze averted to Alistair. “Knight and Warden… you wonder if things would have been different if you were with Duncan on the battlefield. You could have shielded him from the killing blow. You wonder, don’t you, if you should have died, and not him?”

Solona felt Alistair tense next to her, but soon he slightly bowed his head to the spirit, admitting his guilt. “I… yes. If Duncan had been saved, and not me, everything would be better. If I’d just had a chance, maybe…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, Solona felt her heart crack in unison with his voice, and the Guardian decided Alistair had spoken enough. The spirit now focused on Leliana.

“And you… why do you say that the Maker speaks to you, when all know that the Maker has left? He spoke only to Andraste. Do you believe yourself Her equal?”

Leliana’s brows narrowed as she listened to the spirit, and Solona saw her clench her fists so her knuckles grew white.

“I never said that!” she almost shouted defensively.  “I –-“

The Guardian interrupted her, and Solona noticed that Elissa intensely watched Leliana's reaction between tired, half-open eyes. “In Orlais, you were someone. In Lothering, you feared you would lose yourself, become a drab sister, and disappear. When your brothers and sisters of the cloister criticized you for what you professed, you were hurt, but you also reveled in it. It made you special. You enjoyed the attention, even if it was negative.”

Leliana glared at the spirit. “You’re saying that I made it up, for… the attention? I did not! I know what I believe!”

Morrigan snorted and shared a quick glance with Alistair, both still thinking her ‘vision’ was odd, but the comment she made was, to Solona's surprise, not directed at Leliana.

“Is there any religion that does not thrive upon guilt?” The Guardian looked at her, expressionlessly, and Morrigan waved him away. “Begone, spirit. I will not be a part of your games. We need to move on”. She stressed the last word and her features were filled with worry.

“I will respect your wishes”, he answered solemnly and laid his eyes on Elissa.

“Elissa Cousland. You abandoned your father and mother, leaving them in the hands of Rendon Howe, knowing he would show no mercy. Do you think you failed your parents?”

Elissa could only nod an answer. She felt tears burn behind her eyes, and the Guardian decided he was content. “The way is open. Good luck, and may you find what you seek”. His form slowly faded away and Alistair hurried to Elissa. She gasped in pain when he lifted her up, but managed to mumble a silent thank you.

“Let’s move”, he said to them with a determined voice. During their whole walk, he repeated to Elissa how sorry he was for inflicting her further pain. 

Elissa did no longer hear him. Her eyes had rolled back. 

 

*

 

Morrigan observed the spectacle that played out in front of her, wearing a small frown. All four – yes, even the raggy hound, were visited by spirits in forms of deceased loved ones. Morrigan wanted to wring her hands, but forced herself not to. No one visited her, and a sour taste of bitterness swelled in her throat. Who would? She had never had anyone in her life except for Flemeth, and Flemeth was never especially loving towards Morrigan, nor was she deceased. _Yet_ , Morrigan thought.

She looked at Elissa. Beside her laying form crouched her father, stroking his daughter’s cheek with the back of his hand.

“Pup”, Morrigan heard him say to her. “My only daughter. Do not weep for us. Your mother and I are so proud of you. You never failed us, and we never stopped loving you.” Elissa shivered on the damp stone floor, and Morrigan couldn’t tell if it was pain or sadness that caused it. “Duty and honor is everything a man has, and you wear it well.” He paused and gently dried a tear on his daughter’s cheek. “… and love”. He glanced at Leliana, and a sad smile curled his lips. “Your mother wants me to tell you, that you never should shy away from love. We accept you, and we love you, no matter what”. He slowly stood up, straightening his back. “One day you will join us, Pup. But let us wait for many years.” He put a closed fist over his heart. “A Cousland Always Does Their Duty”, he mumbled with a bowed head and waited for Truce to come to his side. Truce licked Frost’s corner of the mouth and both dogs whined sadly when saying goodbye. Before Truce went to his master’s side, the mabari spotted Morrigan, and he sprinted to her. Morrigan felt her chest fill with warmth – maybe she did have someone on the other side after all, and patted the dog’s head without hesitation. After a short moment, Truce hurried back to Bryce Cousland and they both nodded farewell to her. Truce licked away the tears on Elissa’s face, and they slowly began to fade away.

Morrigan rushed to Elissa’s side as soon as the two spirits had gone. She grasped her unharmed hand, and felt Elissa squeeze her hand back. Morrigan heard Alistair’s voice echo through the room.  
“I failed you, Duncan. And I… I am so sorry”. His voice quivered, and a darker male voice answered him.

“No, Alistair”. Duncan sounded somber. “It is I who failed you. There is much I want to say, but so little time”. A short pause. “What I can say, is that I believe in you, Alistair. You are more special than you might think. You are important, strong and honorable. It is men like you that make me proud to say that I am a Grey Warden.” Another pause. “Never give up, son. You are exactly where I want you to be, and I would never trade my place with you”.

Morrigan looked up from Elissa and laid her eyes on Leliana who oddly enough hadn’t drowned from the number of tears that left her eyes. She was even visited by _two_ spirits. Morrigan couldn’t understand what they were saying – they spoke in Orlesian, but before they vanished into thin air, she got a deep hug from them both. Morrigan figured Leliana was to tell them later who they were.

And Solona… A red-haired woman stood in front of her and she smiled as she spoke. “My dearest friend”, the red-haired spirit said to her. “I am so happy to see that you are well. I wish I could be by your side, like I always was, but my love for that… _fool_ blinded me and I sealed my own fate”.  The spirit sighed. “I am glad your Harrowing went fine, Solona. I always knew you were the best one of us. You will go a long way. Live for me, my friend, and we’ll see each other in the next life”.

“I miss you, Lily”, Solona whispered hoarsely and she reached for the Spirit’s hand. Lily let her fingertips brush Solona’s hand.

“I know you do. I must admit that I am happy someone remembers me”, Lily gave Solona a pale smile, “but don’t begin to mourn me now. As I said, _live_ for me instead. Save the bloody world and try to be happy”.

Solona let out a light chuckle and Lily slowly dissolved. Frost ran to her mistress’ side and Solona kissed the mabari’s head.

“We have to proceed”, Morrigan told her companions in a more bitter tone than she first had intended. “I can’t wait to leave this place, and Elissa needs the ashes as soon as possible”.


	25. Chapter 25

Everything was a haze, and Elissa couldn’t determine what was real or a dream. Her body was numb – a numbness that now had replaced her pain, a numbness that whispered promises of death.  _Join us, brothers and sisters_ , she heard Duncan chant solemnly. Elissa remembered it well – his tone had held a certain foreshadowing darkness, and resembled none she earlier had heard. _Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant._

Elissa’s eyes were closed, but still, she could see Daveth fall down on the ground. Terror and pain distorted his face.  _Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn._ She heard Solona gasp where she stood next to her. Jory had pulled out his sword, and Duncan raised his blade and charged at him. _And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten._  

Duncan proffered the chalice filled with darkspawn ichor to her, and she didn’t hesitate. Elissa grabbed it from his hands, felt the cold metal against her palms, took a long drink, and then...

 _And that one day we shall join you._ Now another voice broke through. A soft voice; a safe voice. A voice that could calm the stormy Waking Sea, if it had to. “ _O Maker, hear my cry: Guide me through the blackest nights_ ”. Elissa felt how firm hands carefully tilted her head forward. “ _Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked_.” She felt a crumbly liquid being forced into her mouth, and heard that Morrigan murmured something inaudible. “ _Make me to rest in the warmest places_ ”. Elissa gasped for air -- clean chilly air that rinsed her stale lungs. “ _My Creator, judge me whole: Find me well within Your grace_ ”. Leliana’s lilting voice mended together with a light that could not be seen, but felt. “ _Touch me with fire that I be cleansed_ ”. Had she really seen Leliana walk through fire, naked as a newborn? Elissa felt her broken body, healed by Wynne but yet not whole, rejuvenate the last crucial pieces that were to save her life and thereto, her ability to walk. “ _Tell me I have sung to Your approval_.”. Elissa’s back arched against the stone floor, and with a gasp, she jolted right up as if spring decided she was a flower bud about to burst. She opened her eyes in panic as newfound life streamed into her.

She saw her Warden-brethren crouch next to her side, Morrigan on the other, and Leliana in front of her. Their faces were chiseled with concern – and it was the most beautiful sight Elissa had ever seen. “I am alive. I am  _whole_ ”, she whispered with a throat that no longer hurt. She carefully lifted her hands, inspected them, and felt bubbling laughter fill her chest. “Except for this”, she laughed and showed them her hand that still lacked a little finger, but no longer had a wound in the middle of the palm.  _Not even a scar_. Morrigan gave her an almost invisible, relaxed smile and reached out a hand to her. Elissa grabbed it and rose up languidly, as if nothing had happened. Had it? She stopped laughing as she felt an unnerving sensation shiver down her spine.

“I… I had the most peculiar dream”, she said slowly, and searched for Leliana’s eyes. “I dreamt of my father”. Elissa looked back down at her hands, clenching and unclenching the one that earlier was damaged. Solona put a hand on Elissa’s shoulder, and Elissa saw into her ever so kind, brown eyes.

“It wasn’t a dream”, she said and squeezed Elissa’s shoulder before she let it go. Alistair nodded beside her.

“Leliana has already taken a pinch of the ashes for Eamon. Let us go back to the others, and we’ll talk more about it there”.

 

*

 

Wynne and Zevran shone up when the party returned to them. Sten eyed Elissa head to toe and gave her a quick nod. “It is good to see you,  _kadan_ ”, he greeted her. Zevran was in a much better shape now, and Wynne had managed to regain her strength.

Morrigan immediately went to rest in one of the cave’s more secluded corners, exhausted from the long night. She pretended to sleep, as she listened to when Solona, Alistair, and Leliana told the older mage and the elf of what had happened. Alistair spoke of Duncan and Solona about Lily. Morrigan heard Wynne sniffle when Lily was mentioned. “She deserved better”, Wynne said ruefully. “I hope she’ll find peace”.

Leliana spoke of Lady Cecilie, the woman who raised her, and of her deceased mother Oisine who had been Lady Cecilie’s servant. Solona told them of how Leliana had walked through a burning fire to reach the ashes, and not even getting a single burn. Morrigan noted that not one of them mentioned the array of horrible scars that covered the bard’s back. It was, after all, not relevant -- even Morrigan could strain herself from commenting on it.

The fire crackled, and Morrigan let herself think about Truce.  _Maybe I shouldn’t have scolded him when he put dead things among my underclothes,_ she thought and felt a smile tug in her lips when she reminisced the countless occasions Truce had driven her mad.

 

Elissa sat in silence as she listened to her companions, lost in her own thoughts.  _Duty and honor is everything a man has… and love._ She cast Leliana a glance, and Leliana looked back at her with questioning eyes. She never missed a thing. Leliana had once been a successful bard, a player of the Game, and Elissa smiled for herself.  _I will never be able to hide anything from her_.

Exhaustion soon forced most of them to go to sleep. In the morning, they were to travel back to Redcliffe. Alistair hoped they weren’t too late to save Arl Eamon’s life. He wasn't the only one who hoped that.

Maker, all of Thedas would, if their minds were right, hope for it.

Elissa put her bedroll next to Leliana’s and crept down in it. Leliana soon joined in, and they both looked at each other in silence. Leliana had no words to describe what she felt. She finally had more than a single memory of her mother, and she had gotten the chance to say a proper farewell to Lady Cecilie. She also felt stronger about her faith; a deeper love for the Maker and His Bride. Leliana reached out her hand and let soft fingertips trickle along Elissa’s jawline.

“You walked into a burning fire to save me”. Elissa broke their silence with a low voice, not wanting the others to hear.

“I did”, Leliana answered, and gave her a wry smile. “And Arl Eamon”.  Elissa chuckled lightly and brought Leliana’s hand to her lips and kissed it. She then carefully studied every finger, making sure to remember every freckle, scar and callous.

“Leli… what do you think the Maker says about us?”, Elissa asked, slowly dragging out the words.

“I…”. Leliana looked into Elissa’s green eyes. “What do you mean?” 

“Well”, Elissa felt her ears grew warm and averted her gaze. “Us being two women… and all that”, she murmured, wishing she hadn’t said anything.

Leliana was quiet for a while, pondering, before she inclined her head towards Elissa and kissed her lips, hard. Leliana didn’t mind that Elissa smelled strongly of sweat and blood.  _You killed a dragon and almost died doing so, saved by the prophet Andraste’s ashes. I think you are allowed to smell, mon Coeur_. Leliana pulled back and stroked Elissa’s blood coated hair with a small smile. “I believe the Maker wants His children to be happy. Would He have created in us the capacity for love if He did not intend for us to find it?”

Elissa played with a strand of Leliana’s hair, spun it around her finger. She shrugged and bit her lip, not knowing what to say. She decided to change the subject and was glad that Leliana let her.

“So… should we let the ashes be known?”

“ _Oui._ Why hide something so remarkable for the rest of the world?”

“Then I will tell Genitivi that tomorrow”. Elissa sighed. “And we should arrange a pyre for the villagers. We can not leave this holy place without giving them an honorable funeral”. Leliana arched a brow, grabbed Elissa’s leather collar and pulled her closer. She whispered in Elissa’s ear, and her warm breath tickled Elissa’s skin.

“It sounds like you’re a believer now?”

“I guess so”, she answered and Leliana could hear she was smiling. “But I fear I am still blasphemous”. 

“I don’t think the Maker will mind, as long as you are it with me”, she sniggered and kissed Elissa’s cheek. The dried dragon blood that stained her got stuck on Leliana’s lips and she sputtered. “No, I can’t stay quiet anymore. You  _really_  need to take a wash”.

“Oh, I know”, Elissa sighed and tried to help Leliana remove the small blood flakes from her mouth. She prepared to stand up so she could go and melt some snow, a time-consuming task she had wanted to delay to the next day. Elissa looked down on her broken armor. “Ugh. I am a mess”.

“You are a  _dragon-slaying_  mess”, Leliana purred and stretched out like a cat in her bedroll. When Elissa was to walk away, Leliana grabbed her ankle, hindering her. Elissa paused, turned back and crouched next to her lover.

“Elissa… I would have died if I’d lost you”, Leliana confessed and both her appearance and voice were gloomy, the former mischievousness gone.

“No, you would not”. Elissa grabbed Leliana’s chin and tilted it gently. “You would have lived. A long life filled with love and happiness. Promise me that”.

Leliana studied Elissa’s face for a moment before she answered, and let her lips slightly pout. “But you don’t believe in promises”.

Elissa gave her a lopsided smile that didn’t really reach her eyes. “What can I say? You are changing me”.

“Hmph”, Leliana hummed and shook her head. “Only if you promise that you at least will  _try_  not to die. No more fighting dragons on your own”.

“I was not on my own!” Elissa let go of Leliana’s chin and straightened. “But I promise. I will do my absolute best not to die”. She grinned and Leliana felt how her own mouth’s corners curled upwards.

“Now, Sister Leliana”, Elissa jested, “I  _promise_  to do my best to get clean”. She went to her pack and dug around in it, bringing out her pipe and a wineskin. When Leliana shook her head at the sight, Elissa shrugged her shoulders, smiling sheepishly. “I did say I was to light a pipe and drink if we killed the beast”. Elissa turned her face to the fire and saw that Alistair and Solona still were up, probably talking about Duncan and Lily, and Zevran sat by himself in a corner. The assassin surely looked like he needed a drink. “Go to sleep, Leli, and I will join you soon”.  
Leliana waved at Elissa, a gesture telling her to go. It didn’t take long until sleep claimed her. She dreamt of her youth; of a time filled with a child’s bliss.

 

*

 

They had spent hours building a pyre for the dead men of Haven. Brother Genitivi had chanted as the fire consumed wood and flesh, and then they all had left.

Wynne and Genitivi enjoyed each other’s company greatly, both sharing their stories and opinions on foremost the Chantry. Solona glared at them both for saying that mages did need some type of supervision, even though Genitivi tried to be as objective he could. Morrigan only laughed scornfully at their remarks, saying how she as a young child lured templars into the claws of Flemeth. Wynne had been appalled, even though not very surprised. Morrigan had only shrugged her shoulders, saying that it was a game she then didn’t understand, but now seeing that Flemeth had only wished to teach her not to be afraid of them.

Genitivi had listened to Morrigan with great curiosity, mentally noting everything she said about the (in)famous Flemeth. When he had time, he also spoke about his research and his post as a professor at the University of Ferelden as well as his guest lecturing position at the University of Orlais, complaining about the amount of paperwork and the lack of time actually lecturing or researching. The latter employment gave him some negative attention in Ferelden, but he said he was used to be accused and questioned, as was the life of a scholar – he especially muttered something about a man by the name Philliam Trevelyan. Elissa had been surprised to hear that the well-known man, often cited without his last name, belonged to Leona’s house.

Alistair, Elissa, and Solona listened with great interest to the stories he had to tell about the Grey Wardens and the former Blights; foremost how the wardens and dwarves always had a good relationship, both groups heavily involved with the Deep Roads. He sighed, said that he wished that they had been able to see the former glory of Orzammar, due to that most of the underground network now was abandoned. Leliana enjoyed hearing the stories of him traveling far and wide over Thedas, with the rich imagination she had. He had sighed, saying that he one day dreamt of travelling west to the west; to where the maps ended, and where the Blight never had sat its foot.

After a few days on the road, Genitivi left them, heading back to Denerim to spread the word of the Urn of the Sacred Ashes, while the rest of them were to return to Redcliffe. He was still affected by the weeks he had been tortured and neglected by the cultists, but his spirit had not wavered. On the contrary – it seemed as if it had strengthened him in his Andrastian faith.

 

*

 

Alistair had returned to his normal self, after Genitivi had spoken with him in private about ways to overcome traumatic events. One of the most important things to do, Genitivi had said, was to process the events and talk about one's feelings. Alistair had followed his counsel, and he and Solona had spent hours after hours talking about what had happened at Haven. With her support, he managed to not forget; but to accept.

He was joking and had even volunteered to cook, something his companions wouldn’t allow. Frost, Solona, and Leliana had been out hunting, and Wynne was kind enough to prepare the meat they had returned with.

Morrigan had only one think on her mind.  _When we return to Redcliffe, Elissa’s going to kill Flemeth._ She looked at Elissa - she was playing the lute, accompanying Leliana’s singing.   _Or... Flemeth is going to kill her._

Morrigan shivered at the thought, and turned away her gaze when Elissa met it. She closed her eyes slowly, remembering how she felt when she thought Elissa had died with the dragon.  _Who am I to send her into the Wilds? Who am I to risk her life?_  Morrigan felt something twist in her stomach. Since she had joined the Grey Wardens on their mission against the Blight, Morrigan had begun to have feelings she hadn’t had before. Guilt was without a doubt one of them. She picked up the book Brother Genitivi had given Elissa; _‘In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of A Chantry Scholar’._  Elissa had immediately handed over the book to Morrigan with the words; “I can not stand seeing you reread the black grimoire over and over again”.

Morrigan tried to not be annoyed by Leliana’s singing and opened the first page.

 

*

 

“Zev!” Elissa called. “How are you feeling?”

Zevran gave her an earnest smile. “I am feeling perfectly fine,  _senoritá_ , especially with such a beautiful woman as you here”.

“Bah”, Elissa waved him off, grinning. “You could at least make it believable by kissing my hand”.

“I am afraid I wouldn’t dare to overstep any boundaries, my dear,” he said returning the grin, and raised a brow pointedly to Leliana. “And I have to admit, that your small stump invokes fear”.

Elissa looked at her right hand, where she was missing a little finger. “Really?” she smiled slyly. “If an Antivan Crow fears this”, she waved her hand in Zevran’s direction, “then the archdemon must perish at the sight”.

“Don’t give her any ideas”, Alistair groaned from where he sat on the log Sten had dragged to the fireplace. “Yesterday she said we should give him my recipes so he’d die of food poisoning”.

“But that was a  _good_  idea”, Solona smirked as she patted Alistair’s shoulder. “You are a talented man, love, but not in that regard”.

Leliana nudged Solona with her elbow. “I think you need to tell me about these… talents of his”. Leliana chuckled gleefully. Alistair blushed and Solona smiled so big one could see her white teeth.

“I would  _love_  to”. She winked to Elissa. “... If you tell me  _hers_ ”.

Now it was Elissa’s time to blush, and she protested. “No, stop it you two! Make fun of the royalty, not the poor underlings!”.

“So speaking of your talents is the same as making fun of you?” Solona turned to Leliana, knitting her brows in faux sympathy. “Then I feel truly sorry for you, my friend”. Both women laughed when Solona patted Leliana’s thigh and Elissa groaned.

“I was going to challenge the  _coward_  Zev here on a sparring match, but now I think I will have to duel you for my honor”. She folded her arms over her chest and mock-glared at Solona.

“You don’t even wear any armor”, Leliana said and looked at the leggings and tunic Elissa wore. “She would probably melt you before you have time to shout ‘yield’.”

“You really do not have any faith in me, do you?” Elissa let out a theatrically sigh and pointed on her hair, which Leliana had styled according to the Orlesian fashion. “This hairstyle you made will probably shield me from anything”.

Solona nodded, agreeing with Elissa. “And every night we have to hear you scream that she is  _your_  dragon slayer”. Leliana blushed and now even Wynne couldn’t smother a chuckle. Solona looked to Alistair. “ _Darling_. I am nothing like a dragon, am I?”

“Only when you get mad”, he smiled. “… Or hungry”. Solona gave him a loose hit on the shoulder and he squealed.

“If that is the case”, Wynne chimed in with a small smile as the stew began to boil. “Then we’ll see Solona and Elissa spar,  _after_  Solona has been fed”.


	26. Chapter 26

They were finally back at Redcliffe. Leliana sighed of relief, looking at the pouch containing the Sacred Ashes Alistair held tightly in his hand. Now she could sleep in a warm bed in front of a warm fire in a – hopefully - warm room. She shot Elissa a warning glare, and Elissa tensed but gave her a slight nod, knowing what Leliana meant.

Leliana was from now on the only one to warm  _Elissa’s_  damn bed, meaning, not Valena. Leliana had promised Elissa to be discreet about their relationship on the condition that they were exclusive. Elissa had  _promised_ her that, but for Leliana actions always weighed more than words.  She knew Elissa felt the same about it, but still, Leliana was afraid to trust someone completely. 

She is maybe not Marjolaine, but…

Leliana looked down on her hands. It was the first time she was in a committed relationship as well. Back when she was with Marjolaine, she was a most frivolous person, knowing that what Marjolaine and she had was nothing carved in stone. Yes, back then she had been much – Marjolaine’s lover, pet, trainee. Never her equal. Leliana closed her eyes for a second as she thought about the past times. Times which she had tried to bury and forget. Marjolaine was not a woman who experienced sexual jealousy – Leliana highly doubted the bard was capable of such feelings. The only jealousy Marjolaine could feel was purely professional and related to her line of work.

She herself had not been much better. She had suppressed her own jealousy and even embraced the more free-spirited philosophy Marjolaine had adopted – that one should not deny one’s primal instincts. For Leliana that meant having sex with not only her targets, but also as many else she could. Her face colored from what the Guardian at Haven had said. She had once adored being the center of everyone’s attention. She had loved using her body to get what she wanted. That had been her life. Leliana could not help but wonder if it still was.

Oh, how her mother and Lady Cecilie would be ashamed if they knew it all.

Lady Isolde, Bann Teagan, and Connor greeted them at the castle’s courtyard along with a few servants – including Valena, and the companions let the stable boys take care of their horses after they had unmounted. Alistair and Solona had shared a horse so that Zevran could have one of his own. Leliana knew that the couple had zero complaints about the accommodation – they both enjoyed the closeness.

“My lady and my lords”, Elissa said after she strode forward to the waiting nobles of Redcliffe Castle and bowed eloquently. “I believe we have succeeded in finding a cure for Arl Eamon”. Isolde eyed her common clothing – a simple tunic and leggings, but said nothing. She hoped with all of her heart that the cure would work. Connor, on the other hand, wasn’t as delicate in his manners.

“Shouldn’t you wear armor as well?” he wondered with big eyes. Isolde was about to chide him, but Elissa beat her to it.

“I should have, my lord, but I am afraid a dragon tore it apart”. Elissa gave the boy a wink and Bann Teagan raised his brows in surprise. “If you ask Zevran or Sten over there”, Elissa said and pointed at them, “I am sure they will oblige with evidence”.

Zevran gave the boy a big, white smile and reached for his pack and brought out a large fang and a scale. Connor’s eyes widened. “Wasn’t it dangerous?” he asked with the forthright curiosity only a child can have. Elissa swallowed hard and gave both Isolde and Teagan a quick look as bile at last began to sour her throat at the memory.

Thankfully, Leliana stepped in and began to tell the boy a child-friendly version of the story, and Alistair came forward, showing Isolde and Teagan the pouch. “We don’t have any time to spare”, he said grimly and Solona nodded.

Wynne joined them. “We should go to him immediately”, she added, holding her medicinal bag tightly.

“Are… are you certain this will work?”. Isolde couldn’t hide her worry. This was not the first time someone had stepped forward, saying they brought a cure.

“We have had it… tested, and at least it worked then, my lady”, Solona said and looked pointedly to Elissa. Isolde gave Elissa an inquisitive glance but chose not to ask further, but she gladly agreed to let them see to Arl Eamon without any delay.

While Wynne, Alistair and Solona went to take care of the arl with his family members hovering around them, the butler showed the rest of the companions to their rooms. When Leliana got to hers, she immediately changed from her armor into simple clothes and threw herself on the soft bed. She closed her eyes.  _For only a few months ago I still was a lay sister in Lothering, and now I am here in a castle, fighting against the Blight._  She smiled for herself.

A knock on the door forced her to sit up and leave her thoughts. “Come in”, she called and the door opened. Elissa casually leaned against the door frame and shot her a broad smile, nodding at the slightly rumpled bed.

“It seems as if you are even happier than I am to actually sleep in a bed.” She chuckled. “And can you believe it? The bed is not infested with fleas!”

Leliana stood up and went to her, swaying her hips just a little bit more than usual. She saw Elissa’s pupils dilate at the sight. “Leli…”, she began and cleared her throat. She stepped into the room and closed the door with her foot. “I have spoken with Valena, and… you do not have to worry about anything”.

“Good”, Leliana purred as she grabbed a handful of Elissa’s tunic and pulled her closer. She saw that Elissa’s eyes got slightly cloudy and it spurred her further, pressing her body against hers. Elissa swallowed and put her hands on Leliana’s shoulders, softly pushing her away.

“I…”, Elissa removed one of her hands and rubbed her forehead. Leliana narrowed her brows and laid her hands on her hips, and Elissa noticed a flicker of hurt in her eyes.

“What is wrong?”, she wondered with a slight pout.

Elissa shook her head. This was not the time to tell her about Flemeth. The more she thought about it, the more certain she got. She was not to tell anyone about it. Morrigan was already not very well-liked, and her companions would probably not support a small side quest where the aim was to kill an ancient, powerful witch. Elissa felt a cold shiver of fear spread along her spine. How was she even supposed to survive herself?

“Nothing is wrong”, Elissa forced herself to smile and grabbed Leliana’s waist. “You… mean very much to me. That is all”. Leliana studied her face for what felt for an eternity, with a suspicious and almost omniscient gaze.

“There is something you’re not telling me”. Leliana spun around and jerked away from Elissa’s grip. Elissa dropped her head and stared down at the red carpet with ornate patterns, and when she decided to speak, her voice was low and hoarse.

“I… I am not Marjolaine, my sweet”.

Leliana turned around, her body stiff. “What?”

Elissa looked back up and stared into Leliana’s eyes, more confident now. “I am not Marjolaine. I can not tell you everything, but that does not mean I am to… betray - or hurt, you”.

Leliana stood quiet, but slowly her muscles relaxed. Elissa dared to move closer. “One day I hope we won’t have any secrets hidden from each other”. Elissa reached out her hand, letting the pads on her fingertips trickle along Leliana’s sleeve. “I… deeply care for you”. Elissa moved her hand up to Leliana’s shoulder, where she had taken an arrow for her back at Haven. “You abandoned your peaceful life at the chantry for us, for fighting the Blight. You know”, she paused and let her hand fall back down, so it was dangling by her side. “You said that you would have died if I… eh, had”, another pause and Elissa raked her loose, chestnut hair with her fingers, “But I can tell you, that if I were to lose  _you_ , my heart would turn into stone. Leli, I am  _not_  Marjolaine”, she repeated, “and I will not betray you. It is just that I can not tell you everything. Not yet”.

Leliana pursed her precious, pink lips and Elissa couldn’t help but smile when she silently counted the freckles on her upper lip. “One day we’ll have no secrets”, Leliana mumbled - she had given up and entwined her fingers with Elissa’s, seeking the only one that could drive away her loneliness.

“One day”, Elissa nodded and embraced her. Leliana loved the way Elissa scented – salt and  _her_ , and she nuzzled the warden’s neck.

They both were startled when someone banged on the door, and Elissa quickly pulled away from their embrace as the door was thrown open. Alistair stood there holding the doorknob, panting, with a big, relieved grin.

“Eamon is awake”, he managed to get out, holding a hand to his chest as he caught some air. “And Wynne says the arl probably will join us for dinner tomorrow, if he still feels well”.

“Already?” Elissa wondered a bit perplexed. Arl Eamon had been bedridden for quite some time. Alistair nodded. “And, I almost forgot, Lady Isolde wants you two to meet her as soon you are able”. He grinned and left without closing the door.

Elissa raised her brows to Leliana. “Are we ready to go meet her?”

Leliana nodded and gave Elissa a crooked smile. “ _Oui._ But before we go… I should tell you, that I was perfectly happy with leaving my ‘peaceful life at the chantry’. I must admit. It could be… quite boring”. Elissa chuckled and let her hand brush Leliana’s.

“Oh, dear Sister, I can only imagine”. Elissa winked and they both left for the arlessa.

 

*

 

When Elissa and Leliana entered Lady Isolde’s salon, Solona, Wynne and a grumpy Morrigan already were there. Frost sat by Solona’s side, and lifted her head as the two women stepped into the room. Leliana choked on a laugh at the sight before her. Three elven seamstresses struggled with keeping Morrigan still while they tried to measure her, holding needles and dark purple fabric, and the two Circle mages drank wine while wearing pinned fabrics over their simple, ill-fitting clothes.

Isolde shone up when she laid her eyes on Leliana. “ _Bonjour_ ”, she greeted her fellow  _compatriote_. “I do not know how else to thank you all for saving my dear husband’s life!” Isolde walked up to Leliana and air-kissed her both cheeks. She then turned to Elissa, who gave the arlessa an elegant bow.

“My lady”, Elissa smiled courtly and Isolde smiled back, this time holding no disdain towards her.

“Warden-Commander”, she bowed her head slightly and Elissa shot a sharp glance to Solona who only grinned.

“Neither Alistair nor I wished to be the Commander, and there was no one else for us to promote”, she shrugged as she raised a glass with wine to her slyly smirking lips. Elissa shook her head, muttering that she didn’t wish for the title either, and then turned her gaze to Morrigan.

“Lady Blackbird”, Elissa grinned and Morrigan met her gaze with dark eyes. “It is a rare and pitiful sight you are displaying. One could almost believe you have become modest!”. The dress the seamstresses were to make for her followed the latest Orlesian trend, and even though some would call it daring, it indeed showed less skin than her usual outfit.  Morrigan snorted, her otherwise proud stature drooping. Elissa made sure to remember to actually compliment her looks later – she saw that the dress would fit her very well.

Elissa then looked at the older mage. Wynne was to wear a blue gown, with a more simple design than the one that was made for Solona, and it looked more Fereldan than foreign. “And Wynne!”, Elissa exclaimed as she went to her older companion. “I am speechless - no, I truly have no words for you”. Wynne chuckled a little, and Elissa knew by then that she must have had a little too much wine.

“My dear Elissa, you are flattering me”.

Leliana went to Elissa’s side and gave the older woman an earnest smile. “ _Non,_ Wynne. You do look dashing”.

Solona hid her smirk behind the wine glass. “Especially now since you’re not covered in blood”, she clucked.

“Well, young ones, if you would actually try not to get hurt all the time, I’d be able to be ‘dashing’ more often”. Wynne pointed her glass to Elissa. “And with you, I mean  _you,_ Elissa. You and your… escapades make me look even older than I am, if that is possible”.

A servant came with two glasses filled with fine wine for Leliana and Elissa, who gladly took them. “You will get dresses as well, when the others are done”, Isolde told them with a big smile. Leliana’s eyes glittered and Elissa knew that this was what Leliana once had loved and even lived for.

“My lady…”, Leliana carefully asked the arlessa. “Is there any chance we can get some shoes too?” Isolde chuckled at the question as she studied the practical - but not very fashionable - footwear Leliana had.

“ _Oui, bien sur,_ Sister _._ I will call for the cobbler _”._

 

*

 

Lady Isolde must have hired several talented seamstresses, because when the dinner bell rang the next day, all of the companions could attend in their new elegant clothes. Solona had a hard time not ogling Alistair, who looked suave in his new outfit. Arl Eamon sat at the large dinner table with an aristocratic posture, as if his poison-induced illness never happened. Connor was clingy towards him, not wanting to leave his father’s side. Both Isolde and Eamon let him, knowing that when the Blight was over, he was to be sent to the Circle. Wynne had spoken with them, said that she wouldn’t tell anyone, if they swore to send him away themselves as soon the archdemon was slain. Isolde had agreed to the Senior Enchanter’s terms, albeit reluctantly.

Arl Eamon’s chair shrieked against the floor as he pulled it back and he stood up, raising his cup. The chatter around the table silenced, and the attention turned to him. “Dear guests”, he began, “I am grateful for everything you have done for me, my family and my village. My brother has alerted me of your hardships with the usurper Loghain, and with that, I will help you the best I can. I beg you to give me a few days to regain myself before we begin to make any further plans.” The arl turned his gaze to Alistair. “No words can describe how glad I am to see you alive and well.”

Alistair smiled boyishly to him, and the arl lit his eyes on Elissa. “And you as well, Warden-Commander Elissa Cousland. I will make sure to bring back the honor to your family name. Rendon Howe will get what he deserves”. Elissa nodded to him, trying not to think about the fates of those who’d earlier uttered the promise, and all attendants raised their cups, cheering.

When the arl sat down, Elissa spoke up. “My lord, we still have a lot to do before we can deal with politics. We still need to invoke treaties with both the dwarves and the Dalish elves. And”, she continued, “with the bad weather outside and the harsh conditions we encountered at our latest journey, we need to have a few weeks of rest before we leave for our next”.

“Very well”, Eamon pondered, stroking his beard. “Then consider our home your home.” A small pause. “And, even though your obligations are not yet over, I hope we soon can begin to talk about how to approach the situation with the Crown. I already have a few ideas”. He smiled for himself, a smile that revealed that he indeed had plans he was very proud for. Alistair did not know how the arl had managed to make plans for them in less than a day.

The dinner they were served was a feast and a welcomed change from the bland stews, broths, and porridges they had eaten since they last left Redcliffe. Isolde’s eyes widened when the three Wardens began their third portion, and both Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan clucked for themselves. “It seems as if the rumor regarding the famed Grey Warden appetite is true”, Eamon said to his brother.

“You should have seen them when I first met them back at Lothering”, Leliana smiled to the lords. “One could almost believe they were starving”.

“That is because we were”, Solona said with a raised brow as a servant filled her glass. “We had Alistair cooking everything he believed was eatable, and Morrigan was not much better”.

Morrigan’s disdainful voice accompanied her proud shoulders as she shot Solona a glare. “Don’t complain,  _mage_. What I make is highly nutritional and fits your purposes.”

Alistair pouted his lips, protesting the accusation. “And neither you nor Elissa even gave it a try”.

Elissa shrugged her shoulders, making sure to swallow her food before she defended her honor. “I admit that it is true, but to my defense, I only know how to make cookies and never had to cook a meal in my life.” Elissa smiled so one could see her teeth, remembering all times she and Nan had baked in the Castle kitchen. “And now we have both Wynne and Leliana with us, so that is no longer an issue”.

For the first time on the whole evening, Sten opened his mouth.“What is a cookie?” 

“What? You do not know what a cookie is?” Connor looked at the Sten as if he just said he had kicked a dog.

“No. I am not familiar with the term”, Sten responded blandly.

Zevran began to laugh and hit Sten’s shoulder familiarly, and he spoke with his thick Antivan accent, “A cookie, my large friend, is something that must be experienced, and not described”.

“Just don’t let him be the one to serve you”, Morrigan said to Sten, acid in her every word. “He might poison it”. Zevran’s laugh faded out and the cheery mood around the table changed into a notably tenser one. Wynne had already told the nobles of Redcliffe about how they encountered their newfound companion.

“Morrigan”, Elissa’s voice was low and warned her from saying any further. “Zev and I have sorted everything out”.

Leliana chose to stay quiet, but just as Morrigan, she still hadn’t forgiven the assassin for his deeds. Leliana reminisced their travel from Haven back to Redcliffe, when Elissa and Zevran even had jested about the stump on her hand – the lacking little finger, something done by him. Leliana shook her head and tried to suppress the anger that threatened to fill her. She was all for second chances and forgiveness, but this was another thing Elissa surprised her with – that she forgave to the assassin that was sent to kill her.

Isolde forced herself to meet Sten’s eyes and gave him a quick smile, before she turned around and asked an elven servant to bring them cookies. After a short moment, the elf returned with a tray filled with them. Sten carefully took one from the tray and studied it.

“You are supposed to eat the thing, not smell it, the Sten”, Elissa chuckled. He grunted a response and took a bite.

“Well?”, Leliana wondered as he chewed, curious about his opinion. “What do you think?”

Sten nodded approvingly, and something that almost resembled a smile played on his lips. “Now, there is one thing I like about Ferelden”, he stated with his ever so leveled voice. “We have no such foods in our lands”.

“You are free to have as many as you want”, Isolde offered him. Solona snickered when Sten took another three and put on his plate, and she met the arlessa’s gaze.

“My lady, I believe you’ll regret you said that”.


	27. Chapter 27

Solona was to sneak into Alistair’s room as soon she could after most of the servants gone to bed, still wearing the blue, elegant gown Lady Isolde let have made for her. Countless evenings, when they were out on the roads, Leliana had thought it was a good idea to learn Solona the way of a bard – not the seduction part, which Solona appreciated she let be, but rather how to use daggers and how to move in the shadows. “A mage can’t always count on having lyrium available”, Leliana had told her and threw her a blunted dagger. “And what would happen if your mana is out?”.

When Solona told Wynne that she practiced the rogue abilities, the older woman admitted that Leliana was right. “You still have a lot to learn about magic, my dear child, and if I weren’t so old and weary myself, I might even have joined you”.

Solona let her hands hover over Alistair’s door lock. She smiled for herself as she let the magic flow into the mechanics, and a small click let her know that she had succeeded. Leliana used lock picks – Solona thought magic was way better, and she almost felt bad for Leliana not being able to use the simpler method. The heavy wooden door creaked as it slowly opened - a small opening, just enough for her to slide in. Just as carefully she opened the door, she closed it, and she tensed as it protested.

“Nope. Not good enough”. Alistair sat on the edge of the bed with an amused grin. He also still wore the clothes that were tailored for him, knowing she would come. Solona pouted her lips as she laid her eyes on him in the dim room, only illuminated by a couple of almost burned-down candles. “I even heard your footsteps in the hallway”. 

Solona muttered as she folded her arms and went to Alistair, so that she was standing in front of him. “Oh. Leliana must think I’m a terrible student”. The man in front of her, with slick hair and kind eyes, tilted his head upwards and chuckled lightly.

“Bah, nonsense. If Princess Stabbity is to say something like that to you, I will show her that this bad templar does everything in his power to protect the mage he...", his face adopted a pink hue, "... loves”.

Solona smirked. “So… are you saying that you love me?”, she teased and Alistair grabbed her waist and made her sit in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her.

“What would you say if I said that I do?”, he wondered, his breath warm against her shoulder. She pretended to think and sent him a coy smile. They had never earlier said the words out loud, and Solona couldn’t help that her stomach fluttered. 

“If you say that you do… I would say that I do, as well”, Solona chuckled and felt her face grew warm. She turned around and met Alistair’s gaze. He swallowed and gave her one of the sweet, boyish smiles she just adored.

“Then, Solona Amell, I’m going to say that I love you”.

Solona felt how pure happiness filled her chest. “And I love you, Alistair…”. A small pause. “Uh, I don’t know your last name. Theirin?”

Alistair frowned. “No, please, don’t call me that”.

Solona shrugged and put her hands on Alistair’s shoulders, pushing him down onto the soft bed. She straddled him and his frown disappeared. She stroked his somewhat stubby cheek with the palm of her hand, and they locked their eyes in each others.

“Make me yours”, Solona whispered after a long moment, her heart beating faster. She slowly brought his hand to the gown’s lacings, and with trembling fingers, he began to untie them. In tense silence, she stood up and let the dress fell down on the floor, and Alistair’s pupils dilated at the sight of the woman he had come to love wearing nothing but smallclothes.

His throat went dry and he tried to swallow. “You know I’m not very… experienced”. He sat up and rubbed his neck.

Solona just gave him an assuring smile, and nimble fingers began removing his upper clothes. When his chest lay bare, she let her hands slowly follow the slender muscles, down to his pants. She unbuttoned them, and he jerked off the garment in a clumsy motion. 

“I... I want it to be good for you”. Alistair’s face now had the hue of crimson red, and his kissable lips quivered in both nervosity and anticipation.  Solona tilted her head in a nod and she straddled him once again. This time she felt his hardness against her own sex, with only thin fabrics separating them from joining. She leaned down and kissed him. It was a hard kiss, a kiss showing him how much she wanted him. A kiss that reassured him, that everything was going to be… more than alright.

“It will be”, she whispered into his ear. “I will show you”. She let her hand drift over the curls on his stomach, down to his hardness. She smiled when she stroked it outside of the fabric; he moaned a deep guttural sound that made her own warmth begin to throb.

With a newly gained certainty, he cupped her breasts and Solona lolled her head backward. The bun she still wore was messy, and the escaping blonde strands of hair tickled against her own back. She closed her eyes and almost gasped as an image of Cullen flashed before her. Solona shook her head and looked back into Alistair’s eyes.

Alistair and Cullen were not the same. She did not do anything wrong. Between her and Alistair, there was no power play. Alistair had always treated her as an equal and with respect. They both were wardens, sharing an invisible bond – the taint that flew in their veins, making it possible to sense the other’s presence, just like they could sense darkspawn.

“Did I do something wrong?” Alistair had noticed Solona’s slight hesitance, and his eyes were big with concern.

“No”, she responded a bit too fast and cupped his cheeks. “You are… almost perfect”.

“Almost?” Alistair grinned. “And here I thought I was your Prince Charming!”.

“Oh, love. You are”. Solona let her lips connect with his once more, and felt her heart swell. Alistair was better than Cullen, he was the  _right_  one, and she didn’t need to feel guilty about loving another man. Solona began to remove her underclothes, and she knew that when the morn was to arrive, they would know each other’s every scar and birthmark like they were their own.

 

*

 

Elissa walked around in the shoveled aisles in Redcliffe Castle’s snow-covered garden. Frost glittered in the morning sun, and her exhales turned into mists in the cold air. She wore a fur draped, warm robe, kindly lent to her by Lady Isolde. 

She had left Leliana’s chamber in the shadows of the night, when most servants still were asleep. Elissa sighed. She hadn’t been able to sleep this night, and nausea from the lack of sleep threatened to overthrow her. She had decided that tomorrow was the day to leave for Korcari Wilds and… Flemeth.

Elissa had the day before gone to the village's blacksmith and ordered new armor and submitted her sword for repairs, which she hoped would be delivered to her today. The blacksmith – Valena’s father, Owen, had promised to work nonstop to make it happen.

She thought about the woman she had bedded what felt like a lifetime ago.  _Valena_. When Elissa had approached her as soon she was able to after her return to Redcliffe, the girl’s eyes had shimmered with joy to see her back. Elissa buried her face in her numbed hands at the memory. The beautiful eyes filled with joy had turned into eyes filled with disappointment when Elissa told her that they couldn’t share a bed again. It seemed as if that was the only thing she was capable of doing – disappoint people.

And that made her mind drift to…  _Leliana_. The wonderful woman with feral red hair that framed the most precious of faces Elissa ever seen. Leliana; the woman that somehow managed to soothe her nightmares, a woman that supported her and never judged her. A woman that made the world feel like a better place. Now Elissa was to break the promises she had made to her.  _And that is why I detested promises in the first place. Promises are almost_ made _to be broken._ Elissa let out a muffled scream and hit herself on her forearm as hard she could, and she welcomed the calming pain.

She hated her new body, the one healed by Andraste’s asses – no,  _ashes_. She no longer carried the physical scars that had merged with her soul. The only reminder of the vivid life she bore was the small stump on the right hand. The fatal arrows from the Tower of Ishal – scars that brought her, Solona and Alistair together, the numerous gashes from battling darkspawn, the one on her leg she got outside Lothering that almost claimed her life and the dragon at Haven… Even the small ones from the life before the Order… It was as if it never had happened. As if she never scraped her knees as a wild child climbing trees when Eleanor Cousland looked the other way, as if she never fell down on her hands defeated by the famed Ser Daryn Cauthrien on the sparring ground.

One night several weeks ago she and Leliana had counted each other scars. They had 64 together. 64 scars and every one of them carried a story. Leliana’s of betrayal and assassinations, Elissa’s of… well, almost the very same. Now they didn’t have 64 scars together.  _What do we have together_?

“I can’t help but wonder why our unwilling Warden-Commander is screaming like an orphaned infant out here on her own?” Morrigan’s voice sliced the crisp air and Elissa jumped, startled at her friend’s sudden appearance.

“It is because I feel like an orphaned infant, Blackbird”. Elissa felt Morrigan’s amber eyes pierce through her, analyzing her. “Lady Morrigan, would you like to walk with me? I have something I want to discuss with you”. Morrigan strode to her, with proud shoulders and swaying hips. Elissa hid a smile. She was an attractive and good woman – even though she would hide the latter from most, and the man that one day would soften her heart and make her realize that love and freedom surely could coexist, would be a lucky sod.

Morrigan was back wearing her… scraps, showing a lot of pale, smooth skin. Elissa was just about to ask her if she wasn’t freezing, when she remembered that the mage had the ability to warm herself.

“I would”, was her simple response and they walked side by side among the white landscape. “On the permission that you don’t call me ‘lady’ again. ‘Tis even worse than ‘Blackbird’”. 

“We will see about that. You surely looked like a lady last evening.” Elissa let out a theatrical sigh. “There are truly no words to describe my abyssal sorrow when you over and over again reject my invitations”. Elissa grinned and Morrigan huffed.

“’Tis a shame for you, that you lack some…  _crucial_  parts then”.

“Oh, Morrigan, if you would only let me show you, you would see I have something much better”. Elissa bit her lip, sighing, knowing she couldn’t postpone what she was about to say anymore. “If... If my armor and blade are delivered to me today, I will leave for Flemeth this night”. She looked down at the ground and Morrigan stopped walking. “Morrigan… are you sure you still want me to do it? Kill your mother…”.

“I am most certain”. Elissa looked up and saw Morrigan flicker with her eyes, a sight rarely seen. Elissa knew this must be hard for her. Flemeth was the only one Morrigan had, and the realization that her own mother was to murder her…

“I will make her death quick and painless”, Elissa said. “And I will bring back the book you spoke about”.

“ _Grimoire_ , not… book”, Morrigan corrected as she stroked her index finger against her lips. “And Elissa…  I fear ‘tis you that will perish, and I fear she will make it neither quick nor painless”.

“You seriously have to improve your pep-talk”, Elissa said dryly, trying to ignore the shiver of doubt and angst that shook her. 

“I will not force you into doing this”. Morrigan sounded sincere, but they both knew, Elissa had already made her mind.

“Morrigan. You are my dearest friend”. She winced as Elissa uttered the words. “I consider Alistair and Solona to be my brother and sister, but you…”. Elissa let out a sigh and watched the breath’s mist slowly dissolve in the air. “I know you do not believe in love and... such. I know you think I am a fool to be with Leliana. And… that is why I am doing this for you. You have never had anyone to rely on or trust but yourself. I want to show you that you are not alone, and that I care for you. I only hope I won’t die in the process”. Elissa tried to laugh but it clang false so she let it fade into nothingness. Morrigan watched her in silence, and after a moment, she reached into a pocket and brought out a ring.

“You are not going to propose, are you?” Elissa raised a brow and tried to imitate her voice. “’I am free and cannot be owned by another’”.

“Bah”, Morrigan scoffed, not entirely mirthless. “No. This ring is enchanted. I will always know where you are. If you wouldn’t return from the Wilds, I will make sure to find you”.

“Huh, that almost sounds like a threat”. Elissa took the ring from Morrigan’s hand and put it on her finger, next to her signet ring. “But I must admit, it is thrilling you will always know when I am in Leliana’s bed. Maybe finally you will get jealous”. 

Morrigan sighed and shook her head. “Have you told anyone of your departure?”

“I have not, and I do not intend to”.

“You should. They will burn villages to find you. Or even worse”, Morrigan added with a slightly curled lip, “Your songstress will write ballads about you”.

Elissa chuckled. “I doubt it. First, burning villages? It sounds more like something  _you_  would do. Secondly, I believe Leliana will save it for when I come back and tell her what I have done. I think she will name them things such as ‘broken promises’. And they all will be in Orlesian”. Elissa tried to grin, not willing to let Morrigan know that Leliana’s reaction actually scared her, and Morrigan let out another sigh. “But”, Elissa admitted, “you do have a point. As always”. Elissa took Morrigan’s warm arm, and she flinched – if it was for the unexpected physical contact or Elissa’s cold hand, she didn’t know. They began to walk again. “I will talk to Zevran and Sten. I am thinking…” She looked to the colorful morning sky. “I will say someone asked to meet me, and that I had to do it on my own”.

“And exactly who do you have in mind to use as an alibi?”

Elissa hummed for a short while before she answered. “Ser Daryn Cauthrien”.

”You and all your women”. Morrigan gave Elissa’s arm a small squeeze, and Elissa smiled to herself. Morrigan was really not the cold woman she herself thought she was.

“And yet,” she leaned towards her, “I can not get you - the one I truly long for”.

“You are hopeless, Warden-Commander”, Morrigan muttered.

“Not as hopeless as Alistair”, Elissa grinned back and brought up her pipe. It was hard to fill the smoking equipment with numb fingers, but soon the dried elfroot leaves were in place. Elissa didn’t even have to ask Morrigan to help her lit it – she was used to this procedure by now.

“No,” Morrigan continued as she watched Elissa take her first inhale. “But only because such a thing is impossible”.

 

*

 

It was breakfast and everyone had gathered around the large dinner table. Elissa had to admit that Lady Isolde was a clever woman – she made sure the table was set with not only bread and porridge, but also pastries and cookies. The Sten ate with an increased appetite, and Leliana looked delighted to see a more Orlesian setting. Wynne tried to be restrained, but Elissa knew that the old woman held a fondness of sugar. The only one who didn’t touch them was Morrigan, and Elissa met her gaze for a split second. Morrigan shook her head, and Elissa shrugged, looking down on her plate. Her own appetite had disappeared.  _Flemeth, Flemeth, Flemeth…_

“Lana!” Elissa heard Solona whisper to the bard. “I must speak with you later”.

Leliana giggled and whispered back. “Oh? Have you --”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Solona also began to giggle, and Elissa smothered a smile. She suspected what the two women whispered about, and she glanced at a stupidly grinning Alistair and the suspicion was confirmed – he was no longer was a virgin. Well, that was about time.

Arl Eamon caught Elissa’s gaze. “Warden-Commander Cousland”, he said. “I would like to see you after you have eaten. Alone”.

“Of course”, Elissa answered him, giving him a polite smile. She noticed his plate was empty. “Just say the word”.

“Well then”, he nodded to her before he stood up, talking to his family and guests. “Please, excuse us. We have some pressing matters to discuss”.

Elissa hurried to stand up as well, and felt her companions questioning glances. She ignored them and followed the arl to his office. A fire crackled in a hearth.

“Please, sit”, he said and gestured to an armchair. Elissa sat down and furrowed her brows. Arl Eamon sat down on an armchair next to her – he fell onto the cushioned seat with a heavy sigh, and he immediately began stroking his grayish beard.

“I might not be as young as I once was”, he began and Elissa felt more confused than ever, “but I am not blind. Alistair and that blonde mage --”.

“Solona”, Elissa interrupted and Eamon Guerrin hummed. “Solona”, he corrected himself, “are they…?” He let the unsaid words hover in the air.

“Yes. They are”. Elissa leaned into the chair, shifting in her seat.

“That is a shame”. Another sigh left him. “Is she of noble birth?”

“No”, Elissa mused. “But she belongs to House Amell”.

“Not good enough”.

Elissa was almost hypnotized by the arl’s constant beard stroking. “My lord, why do you ask me about this?”

“I shall get straight to the point, Warden-Commander. Cailan left no heir and Alistair is the one next in line to the throne, and since we do not wish for a Civil War, we need Alistair to marry Anora. Anora is loved by the people, and while she would be a good ruler on her own, we need a Theirin on the throne with her. If not”, he said and shifted slightly in his chair, “you would agree to marry him. You, a beloved teyrn’s daughter”.

Elissa rose up from the chair and went to the window. Heavy snowflakes softly fell to the ground. “I know that you know I would not” she sighed and she heard him hum behind her. “What if Anora were to find another husband?”

“Queen Anora doesn’t have a claim to the throne on her own. Only by marriage, which no one but Alistair could give her. She could, in time, be overthrown”.

“And Alistair and Solona can not get married?”. Elissa closed her eyes. Anora, Alistair and Solona. Three of her closest friends, and here she was discussing –  _dictating?_   - their fates.

“I am afraid not. We could ennoble her, but that doesn’t take away the fact that she is a mage. That could be reason enough for the people to raise a rebellion against the Crown”.  

“Alistair and Anora would detest each other”. Elissa turned around and met the arl’s eyes. He nodded to her and called for a servant. The servant soon returned with two empty glasses and a big flask with Orlesian cognac. “You read my mind, my lord”. Elissa gave the arl a pale smile. Eamon poured her a large glass in silence, and spoke first when he proffered Elissa the glass.

“They do not need to be in love to rule a kingdom”.

Elissa took the cognac and sipped on it. It was a fine beverage, and it burned her throat nicely when she swallowed. “Do you really believe Anora would agree to this? Alistair is Cailan’s half-brother and they do share similar… facial features”.  

“I believe”, Eamon said and stretched out his legs, “Anora will do anything to keep her throne. She loves being queen and she loves Ferelden. The right question is, do you believe Alistair would agree to this?

“I honestly do not know”. She rubbed her forehead and saw Eamon smirk. “What?”

“You remind me more of your mother than your father. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I have heard you were your father’s daughter”.

“What do you mean?”

“Most might think you are the sole image of your father, out there on the battlefield. But I doubt they have seen your mother fight or engage in politics. She was shrewd, Eleanor Cousland.” He paused and stood up, went to his desk and leaned his hip against it. “’Duty’ is the main in House Cousland’s motto. Here you are with me, discussing your friends’ futures. Discussing Ferelden’s future. You are a good leader and a good Warden-Commander indeed. You will do great things”.

Elissa scoffed. “Grey Wardens are supposed to be politically neutral, so I am clearly not doing  _that_  well. And Alistair is a Grey Warden too, and he should not even be considered to the throne. Those who join the Order resign from their former titles”.

“Oh, I know, but this is a peculiar time indeed. What is the saying? In love and war, everything is fair?”

“You do know Grey Warden’s are almost infertile?”

“Yes. But if Anora is to have a bastard child…”

“And Alistair acknowledges it as his, or at least adopts it…?”

The arl let out a deep, hearty laugh. “You really have your mother in you. It is clear as crystal”. Eamon jingled his glass.

“I can not believe we are having this discussion”. Elissa twisted her both rings and took a long drink.

“Welcome to the viper’s nest”, Eamon gave her a small knowing smile. “Eat or get eaten”.

“I am  _scheming_  against my friends, those I trust my life with. I am to ruin someone’s life no matter what I do”.

“If you were to marry Alistair, you could encourage Solona to be his mistress”.

“No. Ferelden needs a Warden-Commander, and neither one of them wants to be. And in that way, I would still remove Anora from her throne”.

Eamon arched one of his gray brows. “Pardon me, but I do not believe that are the reasons”.

Elissa felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. “Well, a reason as good as any, no?”

He got a soft look in his eyes. “I care for Alistair, I do. I sent him away to the Chantry because I wanted Isolde to not fall out of love with me. Somehow I believe the Maker is punishing me for that by making my only son a mage so that he, too, is to be sent away. But I made a choice then, and I would do it all over again. I will always choose Isolde”. He sipped on his drink and took a step closer to Elissa. “As I said earlier, I’m not blind. I, as well as all nobles in Ferelden, have heard of your… escapades. I see the way you and that Orlesian girl looks at each other, when you think no one else sees. Love is a good thing, Cousland. And in Orlais, such relationships aren’t… wrong. I very well know how captivating ladies from that country can be”.  He smiled at Elissa and she took another long drink, emptying her glass, and Eamon noted the slight tremor in her hand. He was quick with refilling the glass. "My son Connor - as well as the fort", he snickered, "are named after my father's lover. As you might figure out by that, I really do not care about such trivial things. But I do, however, care about our country. Deeply". He silenced for a moment and Elissa swallowed. "Now you have to ask yourself who you love the most. Not which one of your friends, but rather your friends or your country? Yes, you are a Grey Warden and yes, you have resigned your titles. But in your heart and mind, you’re still a noble. And nobility does not exist without obligation. You, as well as I, owe everything we have, even our lives, to our land and people. To treat Ferelden with the respect it deserves is our duty.”

“So I am to choose between disposable pawns or the chessboard?”

“No. You are to choose between kings and queens  _for_  the chessboard, so the chessboard won’t fall. Again. We have a young, vulnerable country”.

“King Alistair Theirin and Queen Anora Mac Tir of Ferelden”. Elissa tasted the words and shook her head. “I am to leave Redcliffe for a time this night, if everything goes as planned. When I return, I hope you have kept what has been said in here a secret. I will think about this while I am away, and come to a decision on how to approach this”.

“Good”. Eamon smiled at her. “What are your plans when this is over?”

“If I survive”, she sighed and felt more relaxed than before. “I will visit Highever again, and I will rebuild the Order here in Ferelden". She shook her head in exasperation. "I have not really given it that much thought”.

“At least you seem to have some plans”, Eamon mused. It knocked on the door and he sighed heavily. “You may come in!”.

It was Valena who shyly opened the door, not wanting to meet Elissa’s gaze. “My father wanted me to tell you that your delivery is here, El--, uh, Warden-Commander Cousland”.

Elissa gave the girl a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Thank you, Valena. Please, make sure to send the things to my room”. Valena bowed hastily and left, and Elissa turned to arl Eamon. “When we return later, having enforced our treaties, I hope you will discuss Howe with me”.

“Yes, of course. Warden-Commander”. Eamon gestured to the door. “I will see you at dinner”.

Just as Elissa was to leave, she turned around to ask the arl something.

“My lord, does Isolde know Alistair’s true parentage?”

“Not yet. But I will tell her soon, when you have come to a conclusion”.

“You should do it tonight. My companions will not all know that I am leaving, and I honestly do not know how they will react”.

Eamon arched a brow. “Then I will do as you say”.


	28. Chapter 28

Leliana and Solona sat in one of the castle’s salons, chatting. They both were still dressed in the gowns given to them.

“When I was young”, Solona confessed, “I pretended I was a princess locked up into a tower. Wynne told me and the other children such colorful stories, and it was hard not to let the imagination take the upper hand”. She let her hands drift over her light blue dress and sent Leliana a shy smile. “But this is the first time I actually feel like one”.

“I was pretty much the same”. Leliana let out a small sigh and poured herself a new cup of tea. “Lady Cecilie introduced me to the world of nobles, and I was sold. That, together with all the romantic tales I indulged, made me long for something that wasn’t mine by birth. I gave my soul to the most beautiful of demons so that I could get a small piece of it”.

“Marjolaine?”, Solona asked carefully and Leliana nodded. She then leaned over the table and reached out her hands, clasping Solona’s. “I am so grateful for meeting you, Solona. When I was in the Chantry, I didn’t have any true friends. Now I do”.

Solana's eyes softened, and she gently pressed Leliana’s hands back. “I can’t even imagine us doing this without you, Lana. You are a refreshing breeze”. Solona let her hands return to her cup, and she took another drink of the steamy liquid. “Do you wish to return to Orlais, when all this is over?”

Leliana shrugged. “Some part of me, yes. But I have fallen in love with this... backwater country." Leliana smiled as she said it, but it faded as she continued. "And it isn’t like I am able to return. The authorities would have me killed. But… I would like to meet Dorothea again”.

Solona hummed, and Leliana's eyes turned distant as she allowed herself to remember her earlier life. She then shook her head, pulling herself back to the present, and smirked. “I always knew Alistair would be a gentleman to you. I am surprised it took so long for you to --”

Solona blushed and couldn’t smother a giggle. “He is a better student than I am”, she smiled, eyes sparkling.

Leliana batted her eyelashes, mischief dancing in her gaze. “Oh, Solona. You know, I just realized that you actually _are_ a princess, since you are with him”.

“Ah, no. But I like what you are thinking”, Solona shook her head and watched as Leliana took another sip. Her smile slowly faded away. “Do you remember Cullen, and that he and I…?”. Leliana nodded. “Back at Kinloch, I said that I might return to him after the Blight. But now I see that what I have with Alistair is much… could I say healthier?". Solona sighed lightly. "I thought about it last night. Cullen and I… It was almost like a game of power”. She let her fingers fiddle with the cup’s ear. “The only one who knows this is Wynne, but I was with child once”.

Leliana’s eyes widened. “You were? What happened?”

Solona let her eyelids slid down, and relived the past time for a short moment, before she dared to return to Leliana’s kind gaze. She swallowed as she felt her mouth go dry, “Wynne helped me get… rid of it, immediately after I told her. You see... If it was known, Cullen would have been sent away, and the child as well. It was before my Harrowing. I could have been accused of... many things, if the Templars' found out. Like that I enthralled him with blood magic, or that I was in contact with demons... You get it. And Wynne... It happened to her, too, when she was young. Her child got sent away, just as her lover. I think she never fully recovered from it”.

“That I understand. To give birth to your own child, only to lose it…” Leliana shook her head. “Poor Wynne. I can not even imagine”.

“And the worst part is, that now... I will never be able to bear a child again”. A dark shadow fell over Solona’s face.

Leliana tilted her head, her brows knitted.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Her voice was soft and Solona felt her heart pang inside her chest. She had never thought the memory of the child she never got still had that effect on her. Maybe it was because she never allowed herself to think of it, or the possibilities that were forever lost.

The only sign of her and Cullen's love had ended as nothing more than a blob of blood. Solona shied away, staring down her cup, as she strained herself from crying. Did she really deserve the kindness Leliana showed her? She bit her lip. If Leliana truly were to understand, she had to...

“... How much has Elissa told you of the Grey Wardens?”

“Nothing, really", Leliana said, worry and confusion lingering in her eyes. “But I haven’t really asked her”.

“That is because no one would join the Order if they knew”. Solona frowned and flexed her fingers, her heart beating against her chest. Was she really going to reveal the secrets that haunted her? “I love being a Grey Warden. It grants me freedom from the Circle, and it gives me a purpose. But there are… unwanted side effects”. Solona licked her lip and rubbed her face. Apparently she was. “You must swear to never tell anyone what I now will say to you”.

“I swear on my life”, Leliana said solemnly.

“Oh, Lana, I will just spit it out. Grey Wardens' are almost sterile so I will never be a mother. I don’t even get my monthly bleeding anymore - and how much that tears my heart, it isn’t the worst part.". She inhaled sharply, "We only have fifteen years to live after our Joining”. Solona couldn’t hide her bitterness. “We join the Order by drinking darkspawn ichor. Can you imagine? And, even if we survive the Joining, the taint in us slowly transforms us into monsters, ghouls. So after about fifteen years, we start to hear the song - the Calling”.

Slow tears of frustration escaped Solona’s eyes and Leliana's mouth opened in shock. “And instead of getting mad and rotten, our tradition is to go down to the Deep Roads and die fighting them. It is almost poetic, isn’t it?” A hollow laugh left her. “Alistair joined the Order one year before Elissa and me, and we three have decided to return down there together when it is time. To _die_ together”.

“That means... None of you will live to be forty”. Leliana’s voice was hoarse.

“No, we won’t”. Solona rose up on trembling legs, and slowly paced to Leliana, placing her hand on her shoulder. “I love Elissa, Lana. She has saved my life more than once, and I would die for her.” Solona gently stroked Leliana’s cheek. “But I also know she has hurt you, and even though you are one the kindest and strongest women I’ve ever known, your heart can only take so much. I see that you two care deeply for each other, even though I don’t know how serious things are between you. I… think you had to know this, so you could make a fair decision.”

Leliana stood up and grasped Solona’s arm. A sad smile graced her as she said, “I think it is too late”.

“What do you mean?”

“I have already given her my heart. I realized it first in Haven, after the dragon…”. Leliana paused and took a raspy breath. “When I thought she was gone, I felt my soul wither. She was the only one in years that _saw_ me, and first I thought she only made me feel less alone...". She shook her head, smiling a humorless smile. "And here I have always looked down on those who fall in love with the first person who notices them”. Leliana pulled away from Solona and fell back down in her chair. “But now I know she makes me whole. And I don’t even know how, or why. She was unpleasant to me in the beginning, but yet she captivated me. We were both broken and betrayed. I could see myself in her.

"And now, every time she looks at me, I see in her eyes that she loves me. She has never told me that, but I can tell you, that never before has any looked at me like that. She even agreed to be exclusive. That is the biggest proof I could get from her, I believe”. Leliana chuckled mirthlessly. “Elissa is a great listener and she is trying to be a good person. She's fairly good-looking and most of her facial features are in the right place". She rubbed her face. "She told me she wanted to take me to Highever and, I believe, have some kind of life with me. Since then, it is all I can think about, and a life shared with her would make me _so_ happy, Solona. And now you tell me, fifteen years is all there is. While it may sound like a long time, it really isn’t. _Merde._ I... I almost wished you didn’t tell me.

“I… forgive me”. Solona’s shoulders drooped, and she looked down to the floor.

“There is nothing to forgive, my friend”. Leliana gave her a sad smile. “I understand why what you said is kept a secret. Let… Let us talk about you and Alistair instead.”

“Are you sure?”. Solona raised her bowed head and Leliana looked into Solona’s cinnamon eyes.

“ _Oui._ I am. I need to... think about this. And no words can't change the situation”. 

"But first", Solona dared to smile crookedly in hope to elevate her friend's mood, "I must recommend you not to tell Elissa that you think she is _fairly_ good-looking and has _most_ of her facial features in the right place". 

Leliana could not help but giggle at the remark. "At least I have not 'licked any lamp posts in winter'".

Solona groaned, despite the smile that had grown bigger. "Alistair will kill me if he knows I told you!"

"No, don't worry", Leliana smiled and patted her hand, "he has to get through Princess Stabbity first". 

 

*

 

“Oh, my lady Warden”, Zevran said and gave Elissa a suspicious look. “I did tell you not to alert Ser Cauthrien about your… status, didn’t I?”.

“I know you did, but it is what it is”. Elissa rubbed her brow. “I am going to leave for her tonight, and I need you to promise me I am going to do this on my own. Do not let anyone follow me. I need you to do this for me, Zev”.

“I owe you my life, and therefore I will do everything you command”. Zev raked his silver-blond hair with his hand and Elissa set her eyes on Sten. “And I hope you also support this, the Sten. This is an important step for us against the Blight”. Sten nodded.

“I will support you, as long your choices are the right ones, _kadan_.”

 “Thank you”. She looked out through the window in her chamber. It was dark now, and she shifted between determination and panic for her upcoming quest. She closed her eyes. Leliana had avoided her during dinner, and it was then Elissa had decided to depart without seeing her one last time. “You may leave now, and I will return as soon as I can. I do not know how long I am to be away”. She grinned to Zevran. “But try not to break too many hearts in the meantime,” she turned to Sten, “and you… just try no to break _things_ ”.

“I will do my best”, they said in unison and Elissa smiled. “And… eh, could you ask Valena to come see me?”, she asked Zevran as they were to leave. Zevran arched a questioning brow but said nothing, and he nodded before he closed the door behind him and left her alone in her room.

She fell down on her bed and went through her pack. A map, a couple of skins with ale and water, soap, ignition steel, dried meat, a couple of clothes, blankets and her pipe. She decided not to bring a heavy tent. Elissa figured she could make provisory snow shelters instead. She looked at her new armor, a rogue chain mail with a removable black hood in a heavy textile that allowed her to move swiftly in battle. Tears burned her eyes. Its chest plate wore both the Cousland emblem and the Order’s characteristic griffon, just like the new lightweight shield the smith had given her. Owen had really made an effort. 

A soft knock on the door. “You may come in”, Elissa said and just as she suspected, it was Valena that stood in the door opening, nervously wringing her hands.

“You sent for me, Warden-Commander?”

“Please, remember what I have told you. Call me Elissa when it is only us”, she smiled reassuringly to the woman. “I think we are far past formalities, Valena”. She pointed to the chainmail and armory that was on her bed. “I need someone I can trust to aid me to get into that beastly thing for the first time. And… eh. I would appreciate it if you did not tell anyone about this”.

“Of course… Elissa”. Valena stepped into the room and closed the door. “But as you know... I am not very experienced with armor”.

“I will guide you, just as the last time”, Elissa nodded as she began to undress. Valena’s eyes widened when Elissa had removed her gown.

“Your scars?” Valena sought Elissa’s eyes for the first time since they spoke when Elissa returned to the castle. “They are… _gone_ ”.

“That they are. I… had the same… medicine _,_ that was given to the arl”, Elissa admitted. “This might sound stupid, but I miss them”. Valena gave her an understanding smile, but said nothing as she bent down and took the gown up from the floor.

Elissa heard footsteps outside the door, accompanied by Alistair’s and Solona’s agitated voices. Without forewarning, the door was thrown open and the couple silenced when they took in the sight before them. Alistair blushed and Solona sent Elissa an angry glare.

“What do you want?”, Elissa sighed. She knew what it looked like; she was standing almost naked in front of Valena, and it was no secret to her companions that they earlier had shared a bed.

“Solona told Leliana… _stuff,_ she shouldn’t have”. Alistair was angrier than Elissa had ever seen him before.

“About… you two?” Elissa furrowed her brows. She knew Solona and Leliana were good friends, talking about everything, including intimate matters. The thing was what Alistair knew that as well, and shouldn't be surprised. Alistair’s ears grew redder.

“No, no, _no_. Grey Warden _stuff_ ”.

Elissa groaned as she realized what her warden-brother meant. “ _Solona_. We do not talk about such things with others, because of a reason.” Elissa sat down on her bed, and Valena did her best to make herself invisible. It was a trait most servants were exceptionally good at. “Do not tell me that was why Leliana avoided me during dinner?”

“As if you care about her”, Solona hissed, shaking her finger in Valena’s direction. Clearly she was not as invisible she had hoped. “Lana told me you were to be exclusive, and here I find you with _her_. You _break_ Lana, Elissa, over and over again. I told her ‘stuff’ because I wanted her to know what she is heading into”.

Valena was to open her mouth, telling Solona it wasn’t like that at all, but Elissa shook her head, and the maid looked back down to the floor.

“Alistair, forgive Solona. No harm is done. Leliana was a bard; she is an expert at keeping secrets. We do not know what will happen with us in the future, so make sure to cherish each other while you can”. Elissa swallowed and didn’t dare to look into their eyes. _How am I to tell you, that I am the one that might have to separate you for the good of Ferelden?_

“I will speak with Leli in the morning about this, Solona”, Elissa lied. She felt a bitter taste fill her mouth. “Now, I would appreciate it if you could leave my room”. She took a deep breath and shot them an icy glare, and spoke to them in the disapproving tone Eleanor Cousland used when she had done something wrong. Her mother should have been proud, and Elissa thought, that maybe Eamon had a point after all. She had a lot of Eleanor in her. “Knock the next time you want to speak with me”. 

Both Solona and Alistair stood and looked at her, with a bewildered expression.

“ _Leave_ me”. Elissa rose up from the bed, and walked towards them with a straight back and an aristocratic tilt on her chin, not minding the lack of clothes. She gestured at the door, and Solona pursed her lips angrily before she dragged Alistair out of the room with her. She then slammed the door shut, and Elissa smacked the wall with her fist. She whimpered in pain as she remembered the wall was made of stone, and blood began to erupt from the scratched knuckles.  Valena stared at her, frightened and confused, and Elissa forced herself to give her a smile.

“Could... you please help me with the armor now?”. Valena nodded, eyes wide, and reached Elissa a shirt and leggings to wear beneath it. Soon, the maid’s unaccustomed fingers learned how to help Elissa don the chain mail. When it was finished, Elissa took one of her daggers and put it in its sheath on her thigh, and her shiny family sword in the sheath on her hip. The shield was set onto her back and the pack thrown over her shoulder. “Well, tell me, how do I look?”, Elissa asked the maid.

"It looks great. _You_ look great”. Valena smiled and dared to let a finger follow the lines of the griffon and the vines on Elissa’s chest.

“I suppose it is you I have to thank for them?”. Elissa raised a brow and gently took Valena’s hand. “To have both my house’s crest, together with the Order’s… Thank you. It makes me remember why I am doing this”.

“I know”, Valena whispered thickly and gently pulled away her hand. “Why didn’t you say the truth to them?” Elissa looked ashamed.

“I will, in time. I can not have them asking questions of where I am going. I am… genuinely sorry I dragged you into this”.

“I need to attend to Lady Isolde now”, Valena sighed. “But... I hope you’ll return and are able to untangle the mess you just made”.

Elissa rubbed her brow. “So does I. Thank you, again. And… take care”. Valena was about to bow – an old habit, but stopped when Elissa grasped her shoulder and hindered her. The maid went out of the door and Elissa was yet again alone in her room. Now, she could only wait for a few hours, and then she was to be on her way to the Wilds. And Flemeth.


	29. Chapter 29

The next morn’s breakfast was indulged in an odd silence. Solona hadn’t yet told Leliana about what she saw the night before, but when Elissa didn’t show up, she knew she soon had to. She is probably still in bed with that maid, Solona thought angrily, and shook her head and watched as Sten reached for another cookie.

Isolde couldn’t tear her eyes away from Alistair. Eamon had told her who his true father was, and Isolde felt shame. _How could I force Eamon to send away the poor boy?_ Now, when she knew the truth, the likeness between Alistair and the late kings, Maric and Cailan, was striking.

Leliana felt as if her heart was to go asunder. Elissa was rarely late for anything, and she hated herself for not trusting her lover. She has probably just overslept, she kept telling herself _._ She looked at Solona who averted her gaze, and at that same moment, she knew her friend knew something she didn’t. But what?

Alistair rubbed his neck. While he and Solona had made peace with each other, Solona had been muttering about Elissa _the whole night._ Alistair sighed. While he understood Solona’s point of view, and while he felt sorry for Leliana to be betrayed by her, he would never turn against Elissa. She always had his back when they were out in battle, and even though Elissa on her own never would have come this far, she was the only one of them suited to lead against the Blight. Even Wynne began to see that, and Solona said that Wynne’s opinion always should weigh heavy.

Even Morrigan, the wicked witch, was quiet, and Alistair reacted on that when she didn’t bother to make one single sarcastic comment when he put both cheese and a cookie on top of a slice of toast. He looked up from his bread and stared right into Isolde’s eyes. He panicked and looked back down at his toast. It looked like she was about to burst out crying any minute now. What was happening?!

Zevran, who arrived late to the breakfast, entered the room whistling. He grinned and Alistair knew that the elf had enjoyed his night. “Good morning my beautiful lady, my strong lords and my fearless companions”, he greeted cheerfully. Still whistling, he pulled out a chair and sat down. It was first when he was to reach for a croissant he tensed and looked around at the other attendants with a raised brow. “Oh”, he said. “A little morning tired, are we?”

“Do you know where Elissa is?”, Leliana asked, her brow creased. All eyes lit on Zevran. He chuckled.

“Has Sten not told you? She departed to Denerim in the cloak of the night”.

Arl Eamon cleared his throat, grateful for the broken silence.  “Yes, that she has. She told me this yesterday”.

Alistair furrowed his brows. “And why didn’t she tell us about that? Why _alone_?”

Zevran swallowed a bite of his croissant with a cup of wine. “She said she was to meet Ser Daryn Cauthrien”, he said indifferently, shrugging.

Both Leliana and Isolde gasped, for entirely different reasons.

Lady Isolde, who was used to let her husband speak, couldn’t stay quiet. “It could be a trap! Doesn’t Ser Cauthrien work for Loghain?” Both Eamon and Teagan nodded to her, and Leliana rose up. Alistair wasn’t sure if she was to be angry or sad – and it seemed as if she didn’t know either, because she just stood there, shivering, with her palms against the table. Leliana mumbled something unintelligible, probably in Orlesian since Isolde seemed to catch some of it and blushed, before Leliana stiffly sat down again.

“She cannot do that!”, Leliana finally yelled and locked her eyes with Zevran’s. “Do you know why, assassin? Why is she to meet with _her_?”

Zevran’s eyes flickered. “Ser Daryn sent her a message ---“

“What kind of message?”

“I don’t know”, the Antivan said truthfully and shrugged his shoulders anew. He didn’t understand her reaction.

Leliana’s face was red with fury while angry tears fell from her cheeks. “So you don’t know if she is to fuck her or get killed by her?”

Isolde's eyes widened, and she then whispered to Connor to leave them. For once he left willingly without a word of protest. Eamon rose up from his chair. Leliana glared at him, and Alistair wondered what it was in her eyes that made the arl himself sit back down.

“I… I honestly don’t know”. Zevran sought Sten’s aid. The qunari was oblivious to his large puppy-eyes. Zevran heaved a sigh of relief as his large companion unknowingly helped him greatly as he spoke;

“ _Kadan_ said it had to do with the Blight”.

Wynne carefully rose up from her chair and went to Leliana’s side. She put a gentle hand on Leliana’s shoulder.

“Elissa is a clever girl”, Wynne told her. “I see how much she cares for you, and I doubt she would hurt you”. _Again,_ Wynne thought for herself, but some things just didn’t need to be said.

Arl Eamon spoke up. “Ser Cauthrien is an honorable woman, who I believe has a history with your Warden-Commander.” Isolde shook her head, but the arl ignored his wife. “She would not see Elissa Cousland be harmed in any way”.

Solona’s own anger against Elissa must have been fueled by Leliana’s. “So it has nothing to do with Valena that was in her room last night?”. Alistair groaned as he dragged his hands over his face, and Solona must have seen Leliana’s contorted expression, because immediately after she said it, she looked down on the table, ashamed. This was not how she had intended to tell Leliana about Elissa’s betrayal.

“Stop this futility at once”. Morrigan rose up and she shot angry glares at both Leliana and Solona. “Stop this _now_. I asked our unwilling Warden-Commander for a favor which she agreed to do”, she admitted and her voice dripped with venom as she looked down at her so-called-companions. “And she didn’t want any of you to know before she got back.”

“What kind of favor?”. Leliana held her breath as she waited for the response.

“To kill my mother”, Morrigan answered evenly. She snapped her fingers as she spun around and left them in silence. She had no interest in partaking in this discussion. 

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“And who, if I may ask, is her mother?” It was Isolde who asked the question.

“Flemeth”, Alistair told her somberly when no one else said something. “The Witch of the Wilds”.

“Oh”, Lady Isolde shared a long look with her husband and brother-in-law. Valena, who had been standing in the shadows and heard everything, sought Isolde’s eyes and the arlessa gave her a nod; permitting her to speak.

“Warden-Commander Cousland only wanted me to help her get into her new armor”, she explained to them. She talked fast, because it looked like Leliana was about to put poison in her tea. “It was my father who’d made it, and she also wanted to thank me for telling him to engrave both the Cousland emblem and the griffon on it”.

“But she was _naked_ ”, Solona tried to defend herself, blushing.

“Not exactly, mistress. She wore smallwear, and that was because a gown - as you might know - is not preferable to wear beneath armor”. Valena’s voice trembled with nervosity, and she sought Isolde’s eyes again, afraid to get a reprimand for speaking up. Lady Isolde nodded approvingly in her direction, and Valena relaxed a little.

“Thank you”, Leliana managed to give her a pale smile. She then turned to Alistair, avoiding Solona’s gaze. “Are we not to follow her?”.

Alistair tried to chuckle. “She really made an effort for us to not know where she was going. But…”, he cleared his throat. “But I honestly do not know how she…”

Zevran chimed in, “If anyone can kill Flemeth on her own, it’s Elissa”. He didn’t sound too convincing, and Leliana’s face had blanched.

“We can’t let her do this on her own!” Leliana’s hands trembled. “If she dies…”

Wynne caressed Leliana’s upper back. “She won’t die. If she hasn’t returned within a week, we will go out and search for her. But we both have seen her fight, my dear child. She is talented and no longer as reckless as she used to be.” Wynne crouched next to Leliana and wiped her cheeks. “She has you, now, and therefore something to live for. And I know, she won’t give that up easily”.

“I’ll give her a week”, Leliana said and leaned her head into Wynne’s safe shoulder. “Then I will go look for her”.

“Then _we all_ will go look for her”, Solona added. Alistair grasped her hand under the table, and Solona took a deep breath. “I’m sorry... Valena, for what I said”. Solona sought Valena’s eyes.

“It is… quite alright, mistress”. Valena stepped back and bowed her head.

Leliana excused herself, and both she and Wynne left the room together. Solona and Alistair didn’t stay long, leaving Zevran and Sten with Teagan, Eamon and Isolde.

“This was exciting”, Zevran smiled to them. “As you might notice, we never have a dull moment out on the roads”.

Arl Eamon clucked. It was a deep, rumbling sound. “I can only imagine”.

 

*

 

Her mare squealed and seemed nervous, trampling the ground. “Hush, sweet Cammo”, Elissa said in a whisper and stroked Cammo’s mule. Their misty exhales joined into one, and Elissa looked into the horse’s brown eyes, seeing her own reflection. She led the mare further into the forest, holding the leather reins. She felt sorry for bringing Cammo here. The snow-covered ground was deceiving, and both she and the horse were covered by black darkspawn ichor. The Wilds was quiet, and they only heard their own crunching footfalls and heavy breaths.

She had passed Lothering on her way there, and the sight had made her stomach twist. Death had claimed the village, and it looked almost like Haven before they burned the bodies. She hoped Marian Hawke and her family had left for Kirkwall in time. She stopped and brought up her crumpled map from her pack. She had come to fall in love with the piece of paper that showed her the country she had sworn to protect - Ferelden. She unfolded it and studied her country’s borders; let a finger drift longingly to the north coast, clinging on the dot named Highever.

_“Elissa”, her mother said smiling. “Let the poor boy down”._

_“Noo!”, Oren laughed as Elissa spun him around in the air. “I’m a dragon”, he explained to his grandmother, as if it made perfect sense. Elissa raised a brow and put him down carefully, and let go of him first when his small feet met the floor._

_“And here I thought_ I _was the dragon”, Elissa grinned and began kissing his soft skin, roaring. Oren pouted his lips and folded his arms, and clenched his eyes shut every time a wet kiss landed on his face._

 _“Grandma!”, he shouted helplessly. “Tell her that_ I‘m _the dragon”._

_Eleanor Cousland laughed heartily – a warm, pleasant sound, and both Eleanor and Elissa looked at Oriana who stepped into the room, with Fergus right behind her. Elissa knew that her beautiful sister-in-law and brother had spent some adult-time together, and Fergus held his wife’s hand fondly. Elissa couldn’t look at them for too long, before her own heart began to ache with envy. She had never truly loved someone in the way they loved each other, and Elissa knew that if she one day would, she wouldn’t be able to be open about it._

_“Mamá, papá!” he called for them in Antivan, “make her_ stop _”. Elissa, a bit dumbfounded, stopped kissing the sweet boy and he ran to his parents, leaving her with a pouting bottom lip._

_“So you are a big, fearful dragon, huh?”, Fergus asked his son. Oren nodded and lifted his arms, wanting his father to carry him. Fergus obliged, and held his son up high. Oriana winked to Elissa, and Elissa smiled back to her._

_Oriana had always been there for Elissa, and the Antivan had never said anything negative about her… orientation. A silent support, which Elissa cherished. Elissa considered the woman to be her sister. They talked about fashion and the court; sometimes they even gossiped. Elissa had once asked her sister-in-law what made her leave the flourishing Antiva for the ‘country that smells like dog’. Oriana had chuckled at the question, but answered that it was Fergus’ puppy-eyes that finally convinced her. Elissa knew that Oriana was more of a lady than herself. In Antiva, women seldom carried a blade, and yet, Oriana did nothing but cheer on Elissa when she and Ser Gilmore sparred. Oriana was the epitome of a lady, even._

_“A dragon that’s afraid of kisses?”, Oriana teased Oren who frowned._

_”I’m not afraid!”, he protested, mighty offended._

_Eleanor’s eyes softened when she spotted her husband who stood in the doorway, watching over his family like the patron he was. She went to him. Her back was straight - the result of many a year of courtly training. Despite her age, her hips still swayed when she walked, albeit a bit more rigid than earlier. Bryce softly kissed her cheek and wrapped an arm around her waist. He considered himself the luckiest man in Thedas to have her by his side, even more now after all these years._

_”Pup”, he called on his only daughter. Elissa turned her attention to him. “Ser Gilmore wanted me to tell you to meet him out at the courtyard”._

Cammo broke the reverie when she snorted, and Elissa returned to the present. “It is alright”, Elissa said to her companion. It was hard to navigate using the too large-scaled map, and Elissa let out a small sigh. She was on her own, and scolded herself for not asking Arl Eamon for a better suited map. He would have given it to her. Her of cold red fingers drifted down to Denerim and her mind jolted her back to Anora and Daryn.

_“I will never win”, Elissa groaned as she rubbed her palms against each other. The warm sun heated her already pulsating skin. Anora let out a peal of soft laughter, which reminded her of drizzling rain a sunny day._

_"Never say never”, Ser Daryn grinned as she helped Elissa get back up on her feet. “You are improving”. Daryn nodded to Anora. “As are you, my lady”. Elissa looked at her mentor. Daryn’s black hair was tied in a tight horsetail, and her hair swiveled back and forth with every step she took. If Anora and the guards hadn’t been there, Elissa knew she would’ve let her fingers get entangled in the older woman's onyx-colored hair._

_“You are a most excellent mentor, Ser Cauthrien”, Anora smiled to the knight. Her blonde hair was up in a tight braid, and her well-polished, silvery armor shimmered in the midday sun. “But the day Elissa defeats you, must be the day the world ends”._

_Elissa huffed. “Let us see about that, ‘Nora”. Elissa reached for her blade that still laid on the dusty ground. “But first, I will see the future queen beg for mercy at my feet”. A guard beside Anora stiffened, but relaxed as Anora only chuckled in response. Anora pulled out her sword from its sheath, in a most smooth motion, and locked her ice blue eyes with Elissa’s. They glittered with mirth and challenged her._

_"Oh?". Anora shook her head, still smiling. "Don't get cocky, Ellie."_

_When their swords clashed together, Daryn began shouting instructions to them. “Think about your footwork, lady Cousland.” Their instructor rubbed her clammy forehead as she watched them. “Lady Mac Tir, you had an opening there!”_

_“Stop… helping… her”, Elissa growled as she blocked another blow._

_Truce barked excitedly in the muffled background noise, and she heard that Daryn smiled when she responded; “But that’s my job!”_

A bird chirped and Elissa looked back up into the deep forest. It was the first sound from the forest’s inhabitants she had heard since she entered it. Elissa thought the darkspawn horde that passed before slaughtering all in Lothering had scared away most animals.

“We will find the damn witch”, Elissa said to the mare. “Just you wait and see”. One thing Elissa appreciated with the forest was that it was windless; no icy winds that assaulted her very soul. Sure, it was cold. Elissa’s nose and cheeks had been numb ever since she left Redcliffe. Was it three or four days ago, now?

By horse, the traveling was much more time-efficient, but Elissa felt bad for the mare. She had been pushing Cammo too hard. “When we get back to Redcliffe, I will make sure to get you a whole bucket with carrots, my friend”.

She was just about to fold the map and shove it down her pack, when something stopped her. She let her finger drift along Lake Calenhad’s shorelines down to Redcliffe and… _Leliana_. Her heart missed a beat. _I wonder if what I feel for her is the same Fergus felt for Oriana? Maybe this is the real thing?_

She shook her head and finally put the map down in her pack. “Let us continue on this godforsaken path”.

 

*

 

“We should go look for her”. Leliana stood by her window. She had almost never left it in the last three days, except for eating or sleeping, hoping to see Elissa’s arriving form in the distance. Solona shook her head.

“She wanted to do this on her own. If she isn’t back in a few days, we’ll go search for her”.

“It’s Morrigan’s fault”. Leliana sounded weak. “I _know_ she’s up to something”. 

Solona sighed. “Morrigan always has her own agenda, but you know as well as I that she cares about Elissa, whether she admits it or not”.

Leliana spun around and looked into Solona’s eyes. “If Flemeth doesn’t kill her, I will kill her myself. She promised me not to be such a fool!”.

“She knew no one would approve of it. Morrigan isn’t very… popular, and killing _the_ Witch of the Wilds isn’t ---“

“Oh, I know”. Leliana’s shoulders drooped. “I... I only want her back”. Leliana’s voice almost cracked, and Solona stepped closer to her.

“Do... Do you still want to be with her?”. Solona put a hand on Leliana’s arm. Leliana nodded.

“Sadly, I do”. She turned back around and let her gaze wander over the snowy landscape. “That’s why I want her to come _back_. I can’t lose her too”. A small pause. “I’ve lost so many, Solona. I turned to the Maker because I was sick of being abandoned and used. Now I found that I have given my heart to her though I knew better, and all I can do, is beg that she’ll treat it kindly”.


	30. Chapter 30

Elissa rubbed her hands, doing her best not to yelp in pain as she tried to heat them. It was a procedure she should have been used to by now, after building several snow shelters. She was after all born and raised on the Storm Coast, a place known for its passionate weather - but still, it seemed impossible to ever get used to the bone-chilling coldness only the empty, blighted lands of the Korcari Wilds could offer. 

After sending the snow shelter another glare, she put her fingers to her mouth and blew on them, but soon decided that it didn’t help much. Cammo watched her with interest, and Elissa spoke to her through chattering teeth;

“Don’t… say… a… word”, she managed to splutter while she kicked in the snow in an outburst born from infantile frustration and helplessness. “We might be lost, but it will be alright", she continued while letting her numbed fingers pull up a blanket from her pack. "We will laugh at this, you and I… someday”. Cammo snorted, seemingly not entirely convinced of the statement.

“You know, it is not like you are helping". Elissa's bitter tirade ended, and she flashed her best of burden a strained smile. "Stupid druffalo".  Cammo, who only perceived the slight remembrance of mirth in the human's tone, watched while Elissa, wrapped inside her blanket, tried to set fire to the small pile of sticks she gathered.

Her ears tensed at the sounds of steel against flint. One stroke, two strokes, three strokes… In a sudden outburst of grievance, Elissa threw away her lifeline into the dense forest, where it buried itself into the deep snow. 

“Look!”, Elissa then yelled at the goggling mare, with her arms wildly gesturing and awfully aware of her innocence. “Look what you made me do!”.

The sun was soon to disappear, and she was already freezing cold. Her snow shelter was mediocre at best, and now she had to look for the ignition equipment. She fell down onto the ground, knees burying themselves deep down in the untrampled snow. Tears of frustration began to pour down her red cheeks.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid”. She let out a cry. “How am I, an idiot, to be a Warden-Commander?”

She looked at the loyal horse, who watched her with the same intensity as if she was a court jester, not understanding the severity of their situation.

“We will _die_ out here, Cammo". Her voice was close to breaking. "Forgive me, for I have sentenced you to death”.

It snowed heavily, and it had already covered their tracks. It felt as if she walked in circles, and there was no way in... or out. A quick glance told her what she already knew - she had run out of food, and except for some small birds, she had not spotted anything she could hunt... Not as if she actually _could_ hunt – she had no notable knowledge in trap making and most animals weren’t up for a sword fight. And throwing daggers… well, she had just one dagger, and she was afraid to lose it just like she lost her ignition steel.

A familiar old woman’s crackled voice cut through the air, and Elissa's hairs prickled.

“I have been waiting for you, lassie, but it seems as if ‘twas I who had to find you. The prey becomes the predator, mmh?”

Elissa tensed and her hand sought reflexively the blade that was strapped to her hip.

“Now, now”, Flemeth chuckled coarsely. “Such spirit! No, Elissa Cousland. Take your poor horse and come with me instead. And, if you still wish to kill me, I will be so kind and give you a fair chance later”.

Indecisive, Elissa stood up and sought the witch’s eyes. Shining yellow, just as Morrigan’s. And even more unreadable. Reluctantly, she pressed the blanket back into her pack and grabbed Cammo’s reins. What other options had she? The whole situation did not feel better when she realized that Cammo seemed just as skeptical towards the newcomer as herself.

“That’s a good lass”, Flemeth sneered, and gestured towards the direction from which she came. “You’re actually close to my hut. But, ‘tis no wonder you had trouble finding it. This forest is deceiving, and ‘tis even harder to navigate in during the winter. It makes me think”, Flemeth mused as they began walking to the hut, “it is first when the trees are sheared of their leaves and left naked one sees their soul. Don’t you agree, girl?”

Elissa, not quite sure of what she meant, merely hummed an answer. It spurred Flemeth further; “When I first met you and your brethren, I wondered which one of you Morrigan was going to send for me”.

Elissa swallowed and stroked Cammo’s neck, more trying to calm herself rather than the mare. “And who did you think was going to show up?”

“Oh, I figured my daughter was to choose you, or why not, _all_ of you. The boy was strong but soft, the mage talented but inexperienced. You, lass, on the other hand… oh, we have arrived. Just as I said, you were close”. The small hut was covered in snow, but somehow, it gave Elissa a false feeling of security. It was familiar, and Flemeth had helped her… once more.

“What was I?”, Elissa asked the old witch, wondering what her impression was.

“You were maybe not the greatest fighter or the most intellectual, but you were darker than them. You were not like the trees'. shorn of leaves, of course, but of will to live. And my Morrigan, she likes darkness. Light… frightens her”. Flemeth pointed at a tree. “You can tie your mare there". 

“And… just how did you know I was coming?” Elissa did as Flemeth said and tied Cammo by the tree, and she hadn’t realized just how cold she was, before she entered the heated cottage.

“There is little I don’t know”, Flemeth told Elissa as she poured her a steamy cup of broth. “And this is a result of many years preparation”.

“You are to kill your own daughter to claim her body. Yet, you are not surprised she is not here”, Elissa said as she gratefully received the warm drink. Her cold fingers burned from the touch of the hot cup, and despite her hunger, she had to put the cup down.

“That is what she believes”, Flemeth said as she sat down on a worn wooden chair. “And that is what she is to continue to believe. But _you_ are cleverer than that”.

“Cleverer than Morrigan? I doubt it”. Elissa shook her head and tried to not look as bewildered as she felt. She was here to _kill_ Flemeth, not have a discussion with her. But how was she to simply kill the one who’d just saved her?

Flemeth scoffed, and went to a wooden chest and lifted its heavy lid. When she rose up and turned back to her, Elissa saw that she in her hands carried a book. “This is the grimoire Morrigan seeks”, Flemeth said plainly and handed it to Elissa without another word. Elissa stared at the grimoire, wondering what it was that made it so special. “Drink up”, the Witch of the Wilds ordered, and Elissa grabbed the cup and drank it all, despite it still was burning hot. She was never to admit it to anyone, but the old witch was terrifying, and the situation… odd. When Elissa was done, Flemeth opened the door and stepped out. Elissa joined her outside the hut. It was still snowing, and the sky a little darker than before.

“Do what you came here to do”, the witch said as if it was nothing and arched a brow.

“But –-“

Flemeth sighed at Elissa who still hold the grimoire with a confused look on her face. “Take your blade and let’s get this done with”. Elissa put down the grimoire on the ground and pulled out her sword. Flemeth sneered, and Elissa took a deep breath, looking into Flemeth’s eyes. She took a step forward, raising her sword. It felt heavy in her hands, and the cold metal hilt made her finger-joints ache.

With a burst of derisive laughter, Flemeth let a magical aura surround her form, and slowly, her body began to transform. Her old, frail body grew bigger, her wrinkled skin turned into scales. Elissa shivered, as Flemeth transformed into a dragon. The witch’s behavior suddenly made sense. _She knew I wouldn’t be able to kill her._

For a short moment, Elissa stared into the dragon’s yellow eyes, waiting for a miracle. The beast in front of her roared, and adrenaline pumped in her body. Her heart felt as if it was going to explode, and in a swift motion, she took the shield down from her back.

Flemeth let a rumbling sound leave her throat and Elissa charged at the dragon, hiding behind the shield just when flames spat in her direction. Elissa let out a cry of pain, as the heated metal burned her hand. The snow around her melted into water, and when the flames stopped spurting, Elissa returned sprinting to the creature. She lunged forward; let her blade embed itself in a leathery leg, and the dragon shrieked.

Flemeth snapped her jaws in Elissa’s direction, and she rolled beneath the dragon, trying to put her sword into the shapeshifter’s stomach, just as she did in Haven. It didn’t work – the wound the blade made was not more than one from a paper cut, and Elissa yelped when a talon scratched her face, from the brow down to the jaw, and wailing, she fell down onto her knees. The blood blinded her, and Elissa knew that all was lost. _Forgive me, Morrigan, for failing you._

Elissa crawled, trying to wipe away the blood with the back of her hand. In desperation, she stood up, and a cracking sound emerged when she thrust the sword into the dragon’s chest. That was when she realized it. This was not more than a play in an Orlesian theater.

“You _want_ me to kill you”, Elissa gasped as she stumbled in front of Flemeth, staring into reptilian eyes with her own uninjured. “Your movements are too slow”.

The dragon stared back at her and opened its jaw. Elissa hid behind her shield, prepared for the worst. Her neck hair prickled when she heard Flemeth’s voice slice the air. Morrigan had told her it was physically impossible to speak when in another form.

“You cannot kill me, lass”, Flemeth said, plainly without any mocking undertone. “Only free me”. Elissa dropped her shield, and the dragon lowered its head and closed its eyes, allowing her to slay it. Elissa hesitated before she went to the head’s side, and slowly, she lifted her sword. Holding a deep breath and with tensed shoulders, she let the metal penetrate the dragon’s skull bone with a cracking sound. The reptilian body convulsed and took a last, ragged breath before it stilled. Elissa looked at it in disbelief. _Is this it?_

She wiped her face once more, but too no use; the dark blood poured too heavily, and blinded her again. She couldn’t even bandage it without looking like a mummy. She put the sword back in its scabbard, and picked up the grimoire. “Maker, _no_ ”, she groaned as she happened to smear blood on it. She tried to rub it away with a handful of snow, but it only made the damage worse. She decided to let it be, and put it in her pack. She went to Cammo, who watched her with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry you had to see that”, Elissa spoke to the horse with a soothing voice. “Everything will be fine”. Elissa looked back longingly on the hut, Morrigan’s home, and birthplace. It was too late to go back to Redcliffe, she could do that in the morning. The adrenaline rush had subsided, and left her tired. _So_ very tired. She patted the mare, and stumbled back into the wooden building. The fireplace still crackled, and she decided to slide into the very same bed that initiated their journey.

 

*

 

  
Someone shook her awake, and groaning, she opened one of her eyes. She figured that the other one was stuck together by all the blood. Her vision was blurry, and when she frowned the tightened dried blood cracked on her skin.

“ _Balaur_ ”, a male voice said to her in a tongue she didn’t recognize. “ _Trezește-te_ ”. Elissa rubbed her eyes, and finally, the sight returned to her. A slightly darker-skinned young man hovered over her, his face covered with ornate black tattoos and shoulder-long black hair embellished with a lone thin braid with a feather. She groaned as she let her fingers inspect the pulsating gash in her face, now covered in scabs. _My face is ruined._

“Who are you?”, Elissa asked the newcomer. She sat up and when her blanket fell down, the chilly air made her shiver. It was her own fault, not tending to the fire but instead letting it burn out. The young man pointed at himself with a questioning look on his face, and Elissa nodded.

“ _Corb”,_ he said, and now pointed to Elissa. “ _Balaur”._  

She gave him a pale smile and shook her head. “Elissa”, she corrected him.

“ _Balaur”,_ he insisted and Elissa shrugged. She was in no mood to argue with a complete stranger. Shouts from outside caught her attention, and she forced herself to leave the bed, with Corb following her. It was a fine day – the sun shone on her face through nude treetops. A small group of women and men scavenged on the dead dragon’s body, tearing out teeth, talons, and scales. An older, wrinkled woman lit up when she noticed Elissa, and limped to her.

“You awake”, she greeted with a toothless smile. “You kill witch?”. Elissa nodded, not able to take her eyes from the morbid scene. Corb passed by them and went to a man who stood by the dragon corpse. He returned with a necklace that carried one of the dragon’s smaller teeth. Without asking, he carefully treaded the necklace over Elissa’s head, and the older woman lifted Elissa’s braid, so the jewelry got in place next to her Warden's Oath.

“Thank you”, Elissa said hoarsely. The older woman fetched a bowl with water and a cloth, and gently began to remove the blood from Elissa’s face.

“Baba Ceață”, she introduced herself after a while, her voice croaked and accent heavy.

Elissa thought she could make a new try and pointed at herself; “Elissa”, she said a bit more firmly.

“No, no”, Baba Ceață grinned and pointed at the reptilian carcass, “ _Balaur._ You kill Mother of Vengeance", and then Baba Ceață pointed at Elissa's armor, "you are griffon. _Balaur_ ”.

Elissa sighed and let her gaze seek for Cammo. Elissa furrowed her brows. She pulled away from Baba Ceață and strode to the horse and inspected her. Her mane had been braided, with both parts of bones and teeth, not only from the dragon. Cammo’s body had been painted in intricate patterns. Elissa stroked the mare, and the crunching sounds from irregular footfalls alarmed her that the old woman followed her.

“You help us”, Baba Ceață told Elissa when she stood next to her. She then put a heavy hand on Elissa's shoulder, her fingers crooked from old age. “We help you”.

 

*

 

Elissa straddled Cammo, grasping the leathery reins. It had been a couple of weird days at the Chasind Wilders’ settlement. Corb and Baba Ceață had never let her have a minute by herself, and they ignored her half-hearted protests as they honored her in their traditional ways. The tattoos’ Corb had persuaded her into getting on her arms itched beneath the armor, and Elissa smothered an irritated groan.

Baba Ceață had told Elissa what she already knew, that the wound in her face would turn into a grim scar, stretching from the eyebrow down to the jaw. Corb had tried hand Elissa a mirror so she could see it for herself, but she refused, afraid of her own reflection. Elissa had never before thought of herself as someone vain. It was first now she understood that it was because it had been a natural element in her upbringing. She had always had beautiful clothes, hairdos, and jewelry – even when they were simple, and she had always been considered a “natural beauty” - whatever that meant. Elissa snorted. The scars on her body had rarely bothered her, but her face…

The deer skull mask Elissa wore disturbed her vision, but she knew it would be disrespectful to her new companions if she removed it. They had given her the mask in honor of their gods and goddesses, thanking her for slaying the evil force that haunted the forest. _And_ , she admitted to herself, _right now I would rather hide my face to the world_. Not as if there was anyone alive here…

It felt as if a dagger pierced her heart as she let her eyes wander over the ruins of Ostagar. The tribe Elissa had stayed with wanted to join her against the Blight, and Baba Ceață - the tribe's leader and likewise shaman, were to meet with the other tribes in the Wilds, begging them to follow their lead. Baba Ceață was certain all of them would want to fight alongside Balaur, the griffon who killed the dragon Flemeth. Elissa found it hard to be admired by them. _She would have killed me with ease, if she wished. I only live because she wanted me to._

Elissa commanded Cammo to stop and raised a signaling fist in the air while ordering; “Halt!”. Corb and two other Chasinds stopped. Something felt wrong, but Elissa couldn’t put words on it. Bază, one of the tribe’s few female hunters, scanned the area swiftly. Her eyes told Elissa that she could sense it as well.

Elissa had asked Baba Ceață for help navigating out from the forest. The old woman had obliged and sent Corb, Bază, and Viperă with her to Ostagar. From there, she only had to follow the Imperial Highway back to Redcliffe. She had avoided the fortress on her way to the Wilds, not wanting to meet the scene of betrayal.

She gestured to them to move on. They passed the kennel and she saw King Cailan’s tent, still standing proud. She jumped down from Cammo and reached Corb the reins, gestured them to wait for her. She lifted the tent flap and entered. Inside, it looked like it still waited for Cailan to return. She dropped down on the edge of his cot. _Oh, my king, how I wish you and Duncan still lived. You and Anora would have ruled the country, and I would still be just a common Warden, not forced to take the role of the Commander of the Grey, making impossible decisions. I wonder what you would’ve thought of Alistair._

She noticed a half-open coffin at the other end of the tent. She rose up from the cot and crouched next to it, lifting its heavy lid. Her eyes widened at the sight, and she lifted a heavy sword. When she gripped its hilt, runes of a long-forgotten language began glowing yellow. It was no doubt that _this_ was the fabled blade, once belonging to King Maric. In awe, she put it on the ground next to her. _I must return this to Anora._

In the coffin, there also were letters. Elissa narrowed her brows as she picked them up and skimmed through them.

 

_______________________________________________________

_To his Majesty, King Cailan of Ferelden:_

_My Warden-Commander assures me that we face a Blight. This thing threatens us both, and we must work together to fight it, lest it devour all. Our two nations have not had a happy history, but that is all it is--history. It is the future that is at stake now. Let us put aside our fathers' disagreements so that we may secure the future for both our countries._

_My Chevaliers stand ready and will accompany the Grey Wardens of Orlais to Ferelden. At your word the might of Orlais will march to reinforce the Ferelden forces._

_Sincerely,_

_Empress Celene I_

_______________________________________________________

_Your Majesty,_

_My men will arrive as soon as possible to bolster your forces. Maker willing, this Blight will be ended before it has begun._

_Cailan, I beseech you, as your uncle, not to join the Grey Wardens on the Field. You cannot afford to take this risk. Ferelden cannot afford it. Let me remind you again that you do not have an heir. Your death--and it pains me even to think of it--would plunge Ferelden into chaos._

_And yes, perhaps when this is over you will allow me to bring up the subject of your heir. While a son from both the Theirin and Mac Tir lines would unite Ferelden like no other, we must accept that perhaps this can never be. The queen’s ability to give you a child lessens with each passing month. I submit to you again that it might be time to put Anora aside. We parted harshly the last time I spoke of this, but it has been a full year since then and nothing has changed._

_Please, nephew, consider my words, and Andraste's grace be with you._

_Eamon Guerrin_

_______________________________________________________

_Cailan,_

_The visit to Ferelden will be postponed indefinitely, due to the darkspawn problem. You understand, of course?_

_The darkspawn have odd timing, don't they? Let us deal with them first. Once that is done, we can further discuss a more… permanent, alliance between Orlais and Ferelden._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Celene_

_______________________________________________________

Elissa folded the letters and put them in her pack, shivering with fury. She was to have a talk with Eamon as soon she returned. She could understand them – she really could, but to go behind ‘Nora’s back like that? No. _Fuck you, your Majesty and fuck you, arl of Redcliffe. She deserves better._

Elissa threw the pack over her shoulder and exited the tent with King Maric’s sword in her hands, taking deep breaths trying to calm down. Corb still held Cammo, and he tilted his head when Elissa approached them. Neither of them spoke the Fereldan tongue, but somehow, they almost didn’t have to. They understood each other pretty well anyway, using universal body language. She shook her head to him, saying it doesn’t matter, and Corb shrugged his shoulders and helped Elissa attach the glowing sword to Cammo’s back. 

“ _Balaur!”,_ she heard Viperă call. Corb shouted back, and they went to the direction he shouted from. Elissa’s body became rigid when she saw what had caught the Chasind warrior’s attention. King Cailan was crucified, his naked body shining white as the snow on the ground. Elissa felt bile burn her throat and she vomited on the ground.  Bază looked at her with worried, brown eyes. Elissa spat out the last remnants in her mouth, and handed the rein back to Corb, again, before she stomped to the humiliated King. With tears running down her cheeks, she tried to bring his body down.

“You deserved better”, she whispered and Viperă helped her taking him down, gently laying his corpse on the ground. She knelt beside the young man who had died seeking a glorious victory, the man who had promised to bring Howe to justice for what he’d done to her family. She was glad the mask hid her silent crying, and she gently brushed his blonde hair, reciting the first chant she could think of.

“You are not forgotten.

Neither man nor Maker shall forget your bravery

So long as I remember."

After a moment of silence, she rose back up, straightening her back. She swallowed hard and gathered herself. She put a hand on Viperă’s shoulder, trying to thank him for his help. She gestured to them that it was time to leave – she didn’t have time to give the late king of Ferelden a proper funeral. She needed to return to Redcliffe, and then continue to the Brecilian Forest. _Maker, I’m sick of forests._  

They continued forward, and Elissa recognized the site of her Joining. The same site that had claimed Daveth’s and Jory’s lives. They had not known each other for more than a few days, but if there was one thing Elissa had learned, it was that fighting brought people together. And the Grey Warden recruits’ first – and only - exhausting journey out in the Wilds with them had done just that. On the ground, she saw the chalice of death lay, and she went to it. If she was to be the Warden-Commander - if she was to rebuild the Order, she needed it. Her hands trembled as she picked it up. _Think, that this simple chalice, has claimed lives for centuries_. Corb scratched his head, curious what it could be with the cup the woman was so intrigued by, but he knew the lack of words made it impossible for Balaur to explain. He watched as she shoved it down into her now quite a heavy pack and threw away a couple of blankets to make it fit. 

An unmistakable notion tinged in her head and Elissa looked up from the ground to her companions, alert on her surroundings. Their eyes widened, staring at something behind her. _Darkspawn._ Elissa was quick to get back up on her feet, and spun around. In the distance, she saw an ogre charge at them. She pulled out her sword and dagger, and both Viperă and Corb joined her, one on either side. She nodded to Bază, who’d shifted her position and nocked an arrow. She heard Corb swallow as he weighed his maul in his hands, and Viperă waved his flat blade, preparing for a collision.

With a battle cry, Elissa charged at the ogre, hoping Bază would be able to his head. The huge foe growled and immediately tried to crush Elissa with his hands. It was at times like this, she knew the choice to wear rogue armor was the right one, making it easier for her to make quick dodges and roll away, using all of her agility. Ogres’ were strong and big, but not fast. Their large bodies gave her one advantage, and as adrenaline-filled her body’s every corner, she leaped behind it and jumped onto its back, pushing her dagger into its flesh, using the small blade as a handle to climb up onto him. She screamed as the movement pushed her muscles to their extremes. The ogre wailed in pain, trying to grab her. Another scream left the creature’s throat as Viperă managed to puncture his shin with the flat blade. Elissa grinned like mad, licking darkspawn blood from her lips. Only one good hit was needed, and the monster would perish. 

She heard Corb scream as the Ogre nearly smashed him, saved only by Bază’s arrow that caught the darkspawn’s attention. Elissa couldn’t determine where the arrow had hit the ogre, and she continued to try to get up onto its shoulders. Grunting, she got up and held its horn, trying not to fall as the ogre tried to reach for her. She drew her sword and pushed it into its neck with raw muscle power. Its scream was deafening, and Elissa instinctively knew, that this was the scream of someone dying. Bază sent another arrow, and it went in through the ogre’s eye. Corb mauled the still standing ogre’s foot, and Viperă pushed his flat blade through its knee cap, forcing it to fall. As the creature swayed, Elissa jumped down from it. _Fucking thing, just die already!_ She choked a scream - she fell wrong and must’ve sprained her ankle, the pain laced through her whole leg.

With a loud bang, the monstrous creature had fallen backward and hit the ground, and the tingling notion in her head disappeared as it drew its last breath. She swiftly sought her companions’ eyes, inspecting them for any wounds. They seemed alright. Elissa let out a heavy exhale. _Thank the Maker._ Viperă and Corb hurried to her side, helped her stand up straight. Their eyes glimmered with compassion and… admiration, Elissa realized, and she turned away her eyes. _I don’t deserve it._ She looked at the dead ogre, and she gasped. Despite her sprained ankle and her of adrenaline shaking, she jerked away from the Chasinds’ grip and limped to the creature and pointed at two familiar blades that since earlier were embedded in its body. _Duncan’s. Alistair will be delighted to receive these._

Corb – as stubborn and obtrusive as always, hurried to her side to support her, and Viperă aided Elissa with pulling out the weapon’s she pointed at, and helped her carry the blades to Cammo who’d calm as ever waited for them. Corb and Viperă attached the newfound weapons next to King Maric’s blade while Bază helped Elissa get up on the horse.

They were all tired when they arrived at the Imperial Highway. It was a silent farewell. Elissa bowed her head to them and put a hand to her chest, trying to show them gratitude. _I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you._

Corb pointed at her arm and grinned, and Elissa chuckled as she knew what he meant. She would forever wear the tattoos given to her. She had come to feel the deepest respect for the tribespeople. They worshiped the earth and weren’t at all the dangerous wildlings she had come to know from her childhood stories. When she departed, finally heading back to Redcliffe, still wearing the mask and all the jewelry they’d given her, she knew that it wasn’t the last time she saw them.


	31. Chapter 31

It was still early morning when Morrigan knocked on Leliana’s door.

“Come in”, she heard the Orlesian say in the annoying accent of hers, and Morrigan opened the door with a frown. They had avoided each other the last week, and if it wasn’t for the enchanted ring she had given Elissa, they would have left to find the Warden-Commander two days ago already. But Morrigan had insisted that she was on her way back, and with no one but Leliana willing to leave the castle to meet her, Solona had persuaded Leliana into staying.

“Oh, it’s you”, Leliana muttered as she lay her eyes on her.

“I’m glad your sight is better than your singing”, Morrigan quipped back with an arched brow and a hand resting on her hip. Leliana was sitting by the window, waiting. “She has been traveling the whole night and should arrive any minute. I am to greet her welcome back”. Morrigan paused as she cleared her throat. “I was thinking you’d want that as well”. Leliana narrowed her eyes to Morrigan’s peace offering. Morrigan stared back at her, and when she didn’t respond, Morrigan spun around to leave.

“Wait!”, Leliana soon shouted. Morrigan paused, and with a small smirk she waited until Leliana was apace with her.

The servants were up early doing their chores. “Good morning, my ladies”, they nodded to them as they passed by. Morrigan snarled at that, and Leliana gave her a faint smile when she saw her expression.

“Is it really that bad to be called a lady, Morrigan?”

“Yes. I’m no lady who has to be pampered with.”

Leliana chose not to continue the subject, and noticed that her companion seemed a bit nervous. An untrained eye might have missed the signals, but to (successfully) play the Game, one needed to notice things such as that.

They stepped out on the courtyard. The morning breeze was brisk, and Leliana took a deep breath. She had waited for Elissa to return for over a week now, and the anger she first felt towards her for leaving had blown away with the western wind. She understood why Elissa did what she did. No one would have approved of her going into the Wilds to try and kill Flemeth.

A tired guard opened the gate for them, and they continued to walk down the road in silence. Leliana saw in the corner of her eye that Morrigan closed her amber eyes, and when she opened them back up, she reached out an arm in front of Leliana, stopping her. “There”, she said and pointed down to the village. A sole rider was heading their way.

They stood there in the middle of the road and waited. The sight that met them when Elissa was closer made Leliana hold her breath. She wore a skull disguising her face, and the horse she rode on had strange symbols painted on it.

“Chasinds”, Morrigan scoffed, amused. “She has spent time with the wildlings”.

Elissa unmounted Cammo when she spotted her lover and friend. She led the mare in her reins and Leliana ran to meet her.

“Hi”, Elissa whispered with a knotted throat, not knowing what kind of reaction she was to expect.

Leliana tried to seek her eyes, showing Elissa that she wasn’t angry, but Elissa turned down her face, not wanting the woman she loved to see the damage Flemeth caused her. _Leli admitted once that she was vain. Does she still want to be with me, when she sees what I’ve become? A monster, on the inside, as well as out. A monster selling out my friends for Ferelden. A monster risking Ferelden for my friends._

“Hi”, Leliana answered with her soft, lilting voice, not sure what to do. Days ago, she would’ve smacked the woman for leaving; now she wanted to hug her and never let go. But Elissa seemed distant, closed. This was _not_ the reunion Leliana had dreamt of. 

Morrigan strode to Leliana’s side. “I see you have spent time with the Chasinds, Warden-Commander. You look like a primitive jester”

Elissa stared into the ground, flinching at Morrigan’s words. The snow was flattened from many a foot and the underlying dirt had discolored the pure white - just like forced duty now discolored her honor. For over a week, she had longed to come back to Redcliffe. Now, she wanted to return to the Chasinds, back to the Wilds. Out there, where none shied away from her face and where she didn’t have to make decisions changing her friends’ lives. How was she to tell Morrigan about her mother? _What_ was she going to tell? That Flemeth wanted to die? That Flemeth might even still live, considering her last words? That the Chasinds, their new alliance against the Blight, now look up to her, a coward who easily could have died, either by foolishness and the cold, or by the witch she was sent to kill?

 _King Alistair? Warden Alistair? What was to become with him, with Ferelden_?  Solona would never forgive her if she helped Eamon put Alistair on the throne together with Anora. And Anora would never forgive her if she stole the throne from her, marrying Alistair and encouraging him and Solona to continue their relationship. _A marriage between me and Alistair would only postpone the problems, anyway. We still wouldn’t be able to groom an heir, not even a bastard one._ Anora, an excellent ruler, would lose her crown if she didn’t marry Alistair. And without a Theirin on the throne, Ferelden would be in turmoil, _again_.

And the letters she found in King Cailan’s coffin… Arl Eamon who’d deceived Anora. King Cailan who’d deceived Anora, corresponding about a potential marriage with Empress Celene. King Cailan who’d been crucified. _King Cailan who still lies on the ground without a proper burial, because I wanted to come back here as fast I could_. King Cailan who promised to help her with Howe. Duncan who promised to help her with Howe. Arl Eamon who promised to help her with Howe. Does she dare to confront the arl? Risk losing her only, breathing alliance?

“I have your bo… grimoire”, Elissa said hoarsely, reaching for her pack. She put it on the ground and crouched next to it, taking out the heavy book while trying not to let her other belongings come with. “I ruined it… a little. But it should only be the cover that’s… destroyed”. Elissa swallowed and proffered the grimoire to her friend. Morrigan raised a brow when she received it. Its cover was smeared with dried blood, and in some spots, the sensitive material had been scrubbed away, shining white instead of black.

“Flemeth?”, Morrigan wondered with a slightly emotional voice lacking the usual sarcastic undertone, and she felt Leliana’s gaze dart between her and Elissa, not missing anything.

Elissa snarled as if Morrigan just had accused her. “I have your grimoire, don’t I?”. She rose up, making sure none of them could see her jaw beneath the mask, and returned to Cammo, the only one who knew the embarrassing truth. Leliana narrowed her brows and shared a glance with Morrigan. They both saw that Elissa limped.

“You’re injured”, Leliana took a step towards her lover. Elissa recoiled, not wanting Leliana to touch her. _If she touches me, I’ll break._

“I fell. It is nothing”, she snapped. Elissa took a deep breath, and flattened her tone. “I… just want to go to my room”. She brought down Duncan’s sword and dagger from Cammo and gave them to Leliana. “Please, give these to Alistair. I am sure he wants them”. Elissa smothered a groan of pain as she jumped back up on Cammo, and she left Morrigan and Leliana looking after her as she rode to the stable.

“Something’s happened”, Leliana murmured to Morrigan while holding the heavy blades, feeling her chest tighten with emotion.

Morrigan stroked her index finger against her lips, pondering. “It seems as if your observation skills are superior to your singing, as well.”

 

*

 

A stable boy widened his eyes in surprise when Cammo and Elissa entered.

“Do not wash away the paintings”, Elissa mumbled to him, and he nodded as he took the horse’s reins and studied the ornate patterns and symbols on Cammo’s body. Curiously, his hands drifted over the mare’s braids, embellished with feathers and bones. Elissa cleared her throat and flipped him a couple of coins. “And give her a bucket with carrots. She… deserves it”.

“Of course, my lady”, he answered with a nervous bow. “I’ll see to it myself”.

Elissa hurried to get back to her room, moaning for every step she let the injured ankle take some of her weight, ignoring the glances the guards and servants gave her by looking down to the ground. The mask she bore was among the Chasinds’ the greatest sign of honor; here, an abomination.

When she, at last, arrived at her chamber, she slammed the door shut and threw the pack and King Maric’s sword onto the bed. Reluctantly, she went to the mirror and let out a heavy sigh. No wonder people had sent oblique looks in her direction. Her long, blood stained hair had three small braids, one with a black feather and two with bones, unlike anything else they’d seen in civilized people. The armor was grimy with darkspawn ichor, dragon blood, and whatnot. She took down her shield from her back. The metal had melted and was black of soot, and the griffon and vines Owen had engraved, were gone.

Elissa let the shield fell down onto the floor with a metallic bang. She tilted her head upwards, making it possible to see her jaw under the mask in the reflection. The gash was wide, covering almost the whole right side of her face and it itched like crazy. On some places the black crusts had fallen of, showing bright red scar tissue. She looked down at her left shield hand. The back of the hand was red and blistered from Flemeth’s fire. _She had to injure me badly, so that no one would believe me saying she was willing to die._ Elissa went to the bed, unpacking her things. The crumpled letters, the chalice, blankets, map, pipe… She found a jar with a salve given to her by Baba Ceață and the shaman. Elissa opened its lid, sniffed on it before she stroked it on her jaw as well as her hand. It soothed the worst pain and itching by cooling the skin, and Elissa let out a light breath, temporary relieved. She gazed longingly on her pipe, and went to take down the mirror before she removed the mask. She couldn’t risk seeing what it looked like. With the help from a burning oil lamp, she lit the pipe and inhaled the smoke from the dried blood lotus given to her by Bază. She smiled a little to herself. The Wilders’ smoked even more than she did.

The blood lotus high was somewhat different from that of an elfroot - more hallucinogenic and when Elissa closed her eyes, colors danced on her lids. Baba Ceață had told her that they occasionally even smoked an extract from the deathroot. _They are mad,_ Elissa thought to herself as she let her disappear into her influenced mind. _A good type of mad._

Her time perception was altered, and Elissa wasn’t sure if she had been in the bed for minutes or days when someone knocked on the door, drawing her back to reality.

“Wait!”, she yelled as she grasped for her mask and tied it around her head. She went to the door and hesitated with the hand around the knob, making sure the mask was in place. Slowly, she opened the door so it was slightly ajar, enough for her to see who wanted to come in. It was Wynne, accompanied by Valena, who stood outside, and Elissa opened the door for them. They stepped in, and Elissa closed it.

“Leliana figured you wanted your wound seen to”, Wynne said as she tried not to show any reaction to the odd mask Leliana already had warned her of. Elissa stiffened.

“What wound?”, she asked hoarsely. _How could she…?_

“Your leg”, Wynne responded with the solemn voice of a healer and Elissa allowed herself to relax. _She hasn’t seen it._

“Valena, if you’d be so kind to help Elissa get out of her armor”, Wynne ordered the maid who immediately began to remove the same buckles and clasps she for a little more than a week ago helped set into place.

“Not my mask”, Elissa swallowed. “Don’t remove it”. Valena hummed a response and put Elissa’s weaponry on the floor, carefully to show the Warden-Commander respect.

“Where is your shield?”, Valena asked Elissa while removing the upper chainmail.

Elissa pointed to the melted memory of a shield, lying on the floor next to the mirror.

“Oh”, Valena gasped. What could possibly melt a shield like that?

Wynne lifted her gaze up from her herbs and narrowed her eyes on the shield. It looked just like the shield back in Haven, after encountering the reptilian. “A dragon, child?”

Clanking armor fell down to the floor and now Elissa stood there in nothing but a shirt and leggings.

Elissa shrugged. “Sort of”. Wynne clicked with her tongue. Valena tried to remove Elissa’s shirt by pulling it upwards, but Elissa shook her head. “I can’t risk losing the mask”. She bent down and took the dagger from the floor. “Tear it open”. Valena exchanged a glance with Wynne who nodded to the girl. Valena let the sharp dagger pierce through the fabric, and the ripped garment fell to the floor.

“Tattoos?”, Wynne asked shaking her head. “Let me see, Elissa”. Primitive symbols – circles like permanent bracelets and dots covered the woman’s entire arm.

“I rather have them on my arm than my face, like they first wanted me to”

Wynne huffed in disapproval. “You could have gotten an infection”.

“But I did not”.

Wynne let her eyes wander down the arm to Elissa’s burned hand. She gently grasped it. “A dragon in the Wilds?” she asked again and let blue magic seal the blisters, leaving a flamed scar covering the hand’s back.

Elissa’s voice was bitter when she responded. “Morrigan is not the only shapeshifter”.

“Flemeth”. Wynne understood, and she crouched by the woman who now sat on the bed’s edge, trying to meet her eyes under that ghastly mask. Elissa turned away. “She injured your face”, Wynne stated. Elissa shrugged and Wynne put her fingers against Elissa’s ankle, healing it.

“Thank you”, Elissa whispered and Wynne patted the woman’s leg and gave her a kind smile.

“This is what I do”. The older woman sat down on the bed beside Elissa, and grasped her hand. “Let me see your face, dear child”.

“The mask”, Elissa began, “was given to me; the Chasinds’ honored me for slaying the Witch of the Wilds. To them, I am a hero. Here, I will be nothing but a monster”. A sob wracked her body, and she tried to compose herself. _This is not the time to be weak. I have too much to do._ “Every time Morrigan sees me, she will remember I killed her mother”.

“It can’t be that bad”, Wynne’s vibrating voice was kind and it reminded Elissa of Nan’s. “And it was Morrigan who sent you, am I right?”

“It _is_ that bad”, Elissa breathed with tears burning behind her eyes. “If I…”, Elissa’s shoulders slouched. She knew she couldn’t hide forever. “If I show you my face, you must swear not to tell anyone”.

Valena rubbed her arm nervously, but her voice was solemn as she responded. “I swear on my mother’s grave, Elissa”.

Wynne sent Valena a faint smile, silently thanking her for her loyalty, and caressed Elissa's back, saying “You can trust us, dear girl”.

With trembling hands, Elissa untied the mask, and Wynne gently took the deer skull and put it next to her on the bed. Valena’s eyes flickered at the gruesome sight that was Elissa’s face. One of the sides of her face was full of black scabs and a wide, screaming red scar. White bone shone through the thin layer of skin. Elissa, who’d been the prettiest lady Valena ever seen, was damaged goods. The former noblewoman, often seen swagger with the aura of those born into authority, was at this vulnerable moment like the shield; not more than a memory.

Elissa couldn’t stop the tears from falling any longer – the empathy and horror in the maid’s untrained eyes said it all. Wynne grasped Elissa’s chin, tilted the sobbing girl’s head in her direction.

“Sweet, beautiful girl”, Wynne whispered in a voice thick with compassion as she inspected the wound. “You are lucky to be alive”.

Elissa shook her head and clenched her fists. _I’m not lucky. In Haven, yes, I was lucky. With Flemeth? She_ spared _me._

“Valena”, Wynne commanded the maid who’d stared at Elissa, frozen. “Go and ask the arlessa if she might have an Orlesian mask to lend us”. Valena, who was happy to leave them and do something useful, nodded and hurried away, making sure to close the door behind her.

With deft hands, Wynne checked the laceration. “The shaman healed the worst of it”, Elissa managed to tell the mage.

“Yes, I see that”. A small pause. “I can’t believe your eye is well”, Wynne admitted. “It shouldn’t be, considering the damage around it”.  
Elissa jerked away from Wynne’s soft hands and stood up, glad that at least her ankle now was fine. The bitterness in her tone was back. “As you said. I was _lucky_ ”.

“Did the Chasinders’ help you take down the dragon – Flemeth?”.

Elissa shook her head. “No” _. Flemeth alone helped me take down Flemeth._

 Wynne stood up and stepped to Elissa who hid her face in her hands. “You should speak with Leliana, Elissa. She has been sitting by that window for over a week, waiting for you to return”.

“I am ruined”, Elissa gasped and fell down on the floor on her knees. “If she…” Elissa’s voice cracked. “What if she can not stand looking at me? She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and she deserves more than… than _this_ ”, she hissed.

Wynne crouched next to Elissa. “I have seen Leliana’s back, Elissa. She will understand. You will have a scar, yes. But you are _not_ ruined. You are still delightful”.

“Don’t you dare lie to me!”, Elissa scowled. “Not you of all people. You have always been honest to me, even brutally so”.

Wynne cupped Elissa’s cheeks with her hands, careful not to remove any scabs. “I am honest, Elissa. It will leave a big scar, and many will be afraid to look into your eyes.” Wynne dried Elissa’s wet cheeks with her thumbs. “But the fault is on them, not you”. Wynne was interrupted - the door was opened and Valena slid in, holding three different masks.

“Lady Isolde greets you welcome back, and wishes to meet you when you have rested”, Valena said and reached the masks to Elissa. When she didn’t move, Wynne took them. “She also said you didn’t need to return them. They are yours”.

“Oh, thank you so dearly, Valena, for your help. I will call for you if I would need you again”. Valena nodded, and let her gaze linger on Elissa’s beaten form before she finally bowed and left.

Elissa let out a hollow chuckle. “No one who is still considered ‘delightful’ needs to hide behind a mask”.

“Come”. Wynne helped Elissa get back up on her feet, and then began to clear the bed from the things she’d put there. “Try to sleep some, dear. When you wake up, I will be here, and we can try the masks together”.  

Elissa slid under the quilt and onto the soft mattress, and she didn’t object when Wynne fluffed a pillow for her. “I think I need a bath”.

“Yes, you do”. Wynne smiled and stroked Elissa’s brow. “But I will take care of all that”.

“And you... will be here when I wake up?”

At last, Elissa met Wynne’s eyes, and Wynne gazed into the green eyes that reminded her of a haunted forest. “I will not go anywhere”, she promised and pulled a chair to the bedside, and fell down on it with an assuring smile.

Elissa nodded, and after a while, Wynne heard her breaths deepen. She looked at the masks Valena had brought. _Is this Elissa’s new life? She has always hidden a part of herself and worn invisible masks. But, it is a big difference from wearing a_ visible _one._

Wynne sighed and let her gaze return to Elissa, sincerely hoping that Leliana was the girl she thought her to be. 


	32. Chapter 32

Solona jolted up from her sleep, wide awake, when it knocked on the door. Alistair groaned next to her, covering his face with his arm, trying not to be blinded by the bright morning light that shone through the large windows. Solona shook him fervently, and he moaned in protest.

“There’s someone by the door”, she wheezed, afraid a servant would see that Alistair was in her bad. _Naked_.

“It’s only I”, Solona heard Leliana’s muffled voice say, and she let out a breath and allowed herself to relax.

“Wait a minute”, she shouted and jumped out the bed. She swiftly threw Alistair his shirt and pants, before quickly donning a satin robe, given to her by Lady Isolde. Every time Solona felt the glossy fabric against her skin, she sent a silent thanks to the arlessa. The fancy material was a big difference from the tenser, cheaper cotton garments she usually had to wear.

Solona send Alistair a glance, making sure he was properly dressed, before she opened the door and let Leliana step in.

“Good morning”, Leliana said to them with a faint smile. “I went to Alistair’s chamber first, but no one opened so I figured he was here”.

“You was right”, Alistair grinned with half-open eyes, still blinded by the sun. Solona hid a yawn and narrowed her brows when she spotted what Leliana had brought with her.

“Blades?”, she asked her friend incredulously and rubbed her eyes.

“ _Oui._ Elissa wanted Alistair to have them”.

Alistair rose up from the bed with his hair tousled from sleep. His brown eyes widened at the sight, and he strode to Leliana and released her from them.

“It can’t be”, he breathed, reverie evident in his thick voice, and let a finger trace the flat side of the blade. “They were Duncan’s. She… must have been at Ostagar”.

Solona joined Alistair and let a comforting hand stroke his lower back, and her cinnamon eyes met Leliana’s. “So she’s here? When did she return?”

“Maybe half an hour ago”, Leliana answered. She stroked her forehead, and a worried wrinkle appeared between her red brows. “She acted… different”.

Solona let her hand leave Alistair’s back for Leliana’s elbow. “Different? What did she say?”.

Leliana looked down on Solona’s bare feet. “She didn’t say much, but it seemed as if she was… successful, in killing Flemeth”.

“Well, she isn’t the most chatty person I’ve met”, Alistair said with a lopsided smile and shrugged his shoulders, and turned his focus back to one of the blades given to him. “Can I go see her?”.

“I just sent Wynne and Valena to tend to her”, Leliana sighed and buried her face into her hands. “Morrigan said she has spent time with the Chasinds. She… um. She had a deer skull covering her face when she arrived”.

“That’s… odd, even for her”. Solona let an index finger tap against her chin, thinking. “Why Wynne and Valena?”

“She limped, and didn’t seem very interested in me”, Leliana sighed again. If she had been the same person she was before the Chantry, she would have persuaded Elissa into talking to her - in one way or another. But Leliana was not that person anymore. Or was it only what she told herself?

Her stomach writhed as she thought about how easily she killed the heretics back at Haven, how easy she killed all bandits they encountered. No matter how much she told herself that she had changed, she did not feel the guilt both Alistair and Solona felt after killing another person. “I don’t know what I am supposed to feel", she said heavily. "I thought… or rather hoped, she would be glad to see me”.

“I bet she is”, Alistair nodded. “She has been out in the Wilds on her own and, hopefully, killed Flemeth”. He frowned at the memory of the harsh, old crone who’d once saved their lives. “And thereto spent time with the Chasinds. I guess she will just need some time”.

Solona raised her brows in his direction. “And just _where_ have you hidden your wisdom?”

“That I’ll never reveal”, Alistair winked. “I prefer Morrigan to still think of me as a stupid frog”.

Leliana let out a light chuckle, but Solona saw that the worry that still lingered in her eyes. “I hope you’re right, Alistair”.

 

*

 

“How do I look?”, Elissa asked Wynne. Nervously, the younger woman fidgeted with the edge of the mask that covered her entire face. The Orlesian mask was made of silver and had red, painted lips.

“Well…”, Wynne eyed the woman whose loose hair was damp from the bath, and who still had a braid decorated with bones. “Not as intimidating as with the skull”.

Elissa snorted in frustration. “And not as intimidating as _without_ ”. 

Wynne stroked her chin, thinking, before reaching Elissa one of the other masks. “I suggest you take this one. You won’t be able to eat in the one you wear”.

“I am sure Lady Isolde has a few tricks in her sleeve”, Elissa muttered. “And with that one, they will still see my scar”.

“My dear”, Wynne sighed. “They will understand anyway, and I’m sure they react more to you wearing that thing, than your scar”.

With a huff, Elissa tossed away the mask she wore and took the one Wynne handed to her. “I hope Owen will make me one that only covers the left side of my face”. Wynne went to her and helped her tie it.

“Look at me, child”, Wynne softly commanded. Elissa bit the inside of her cheek, obliging the older woman. Wynne nodded approvingly, and let her fingers trace the scar from her jaw up to the mask’s edge. “Yes, this is much better, and you look… what was it Leliana called me? Dashing?”

Elissa felt a smile tug her lips, but smothered it when Wynne grasped her shoulder and turned her around so that she faced the mirror. She wore a sleeveless dark blue gown with silver embroidery, and instead of an Orlesian corset, she wore a Fereldan vest with fur on its collar. Her arms were covered in inked symbols. Elissa didn’t know what the patterns meant; Baba Ceață’s vocabulary was most limited, and Elissa wasn’t sure what to feel about the tattoos. While she had the deepest of respect for the tribespeople, she knew that they had accepted her as one of themselves for doing a deed she couldn’t claim credit for.

On her hands, she wore thin, white gloves. They were also Orlesian and covered the flaming scar on the back of her hand. She chuckled at herself. “I am the love baby between three different cultures, all detesting each other”. Wynne tilted her head and met Elissa’s gaze in the mirror. She had a faint smile on her lips, and her white hair was up in a bun. She must have been a beauty when she was younger, Elissa thought to herself. No, she corrected immediately -- she still is.

“Are you ready to go meet Lady Isolde?”, Wynne finally asked. Elissa studied her jaw in the mirror while she fidgeted with both her Warden’s Oath and Flemeth’s – or rather the dragon’s, tooth that rested against her chest. She still wore Morrigan’s ring next to the Cousland signet ring.

And her face… She shivered when she gave her jaw another look. “At least it covers the worst part”, Elissa sighed. The damaged skin next to her nose, up around her eye and eyebrow was what made her want to retch at the sight. She turned around to Wynne. “Do you happen to have a needle and white thread with you?”

Wynne cast a glance to her healer bag, and after a short moment of thinking, she nodded. “But why would you need –-“

Elissa raised her right hand that lacked a little finger and smirked. The glove’s sheath for the little finger dangled without anything to support it. “Oh”, Wynne smiled. “That we might want to take care of”.

 

*

 

Elissa did her best to move with the confident stride her mother had spent numerous hours teaching her, avoiding the curious glances the castle’s servants sent in her direction. They had without a doubt heard the rumors of her arriving with a deer skull stuck to her face, and her new outfit didn’t do anything better to still their interest. To see an Orlesian mask in Ferelden was rare, and to see a former noblewoman covered in tattoos rarer. But Elissa also knew that if she showed them any more weakness, like the one she did when she arrived, the word would spread. Ferelden needed a Warden-Commander, and since neither Alistair nor Solona wanted to carry that burden, Elissa knew she had to. _A Cousland Always Does Their Duty. Yours is now towards the Grey Wardens._ In one of the vest’s pockets, the letters of betrayal laid crumpled, and Elissa knew she had to – must carefully - confront the arl about it. If not to at least get some answers.

Valena gave Elissa a faint smile when they met outside Lady Isolde’s room. “You look great”, the maid whispered reassuring, knowing what the mask hid. Elissa smiled back, not trusting her dry mouth enough to speak. She had earlier seldom cared for servants’ opinions, but during the long walk through the castle’s many corridors, she had made an effort to stride with a dignity she no longer felt, wondering what they were thinking.

Valena opened the door for her. “My lady, the Warden-Commander has arrived”.

“Splendid. Let her in”, Lady Isolde said in an aristocratic manner, and Elissa stepped into the arlessa’s private chamber. The noblewoman sat by a small, dark wooden table that had two glasses of wine on it. Isolde's small dog sat in her lap, barking at Elissa. Arl Eamon had many award-winning hounds - both mabaris and different hunting dogs - in his kennel, but Isolde clearly preferred the smaller breeds.“Correct me if I’m wrong, Warden-Commander Cousland”, Lady Isolde pleasantly smiled as she met Elissa’s eyes, “but if my impression of you is right, I supposed you would fancy a glass or two after your homecoming”.

“I won’t correct you, my lady”, Elissa responded and strode to the chair. If Lady Isolde, born and raised in Orlais and a former player of the Game, reacted to the scar she didn’t show it.

“You wear the mask beautifully”, Lady Isolde nodded as Elissa sipped on her glass and tasted the sweet wine. “But I must confess, that the mask you apparently had this morning seems to be the talk of the day”.

“I am forever grateful for your gifts”, Elissa thanked her with a plastered, courtly smile, and Isolde waved a hand, and Elissa continued, “And I apologize if my earlier… attire has stirred anything. It was not my intention”.

“ _Non._ Nonsense. You have nothing to apologize for”. Lady Isolde toyed with a freed curl of her hair, that otherwise was braided in a traditional, Fereldan way. “I, on the other hand, have much to amend”. Lady Isolde decided it was time to abandon the formalities. “Elissa…”, she sighed. “I am terribly sorry for how I acted towards you before you went to the Sacred Ashes. You and your companions have saved not only my son’s and husband’s lives, but also all of Redcliffe Village. I have spoken with Eamon about this, and we decided to name you the Champion of Redcliffe”.

Elissa raised her brows in surprise, and looked down in her half-full wine glass while swirling it. “Why me?”, she wondered almost in a whisper. “I did not do it on my own”.

Lady Isolde sat quietly for a moment before she answered. “Simply because you are the front figure, and despite your…” she searched for a fitting word.

“Faults?”, Elissa helped with a faint smile.

“Oh, no”, Isolde shook her head. “Let’s rephrase it. You are a social chameleon, Elissa. Your companions are talented and, most importantly, _good_ , but not the born leader you are. The leader this Blight needs”. A short pause. "The weight of your family name might be helpful, too". 

Elissa huffed. “I am not sure I agree”. She took a long drink and emptied her glass, and stared down into it. 

“Eamon told me the truth about Alistair”. Lady Isolde said, suddenly rueful, as she wrung her hands. “I… wish to explain myself. You see, when he was but a boy, it circulated rumors about him being Eamon’s bastard.”

“So I have heard”, Elissa nodded, and she put down the glass on the table. Their eyes met, and both women let their true feelings be shown. Elissa’s of shame and guilt, and Isolde’s of… the very same. "Isolde, you do not have to explain yourself to me". 

“But I do. It’s my fault he was sent away to the Chantry. I... I will never forgive myself for that. If I’d only knew he was the son to King Maric…”

“Isolde”, Elissa said to her, more firmly than intended. “If Loghain hadn’t betrayed Cailan, he would still live and Alistair’s true identity stayed hidden. And, if Alistair hadn’t been sent away, he might never have joined the Order, and who knows where we today would stand. Talk to him. I am sure you will see that he understands”.

“I will. Thank you”, Lady Isolde breathed, and they sat in silence for a moment. “Eamon asked me to tell you that he wishes to see you as well. You don’t have to hurry”, the arlessa said as she gracefully rose up from her chair. The lapdog jumped down from her with a shrieking protest. “But he is almost always in his office. You will find him there when you’re ready”.

Elissa tilted her chin in a small nod and followed Isolde to the door. “They are truly intriguing”, Isolde let her hands brush Elissa’s tattooed arms, “I have never seen something quite like it”.

“Neither have I”, Elissa said with a crooked smile, and Isolde mirrored it. With a minor bow Elissa prepared to leave, but Isolde stopped her by grasping her wrist.

“The scar”, Isolde whispered. “From what I can see, it is not that… gruesome. You don’t have to hide”.

Elissa’s body turned rigid. “That is because I hide most of it, my lady. I still want people to believe what you just said”. With downcast eyes, she hastened away before Isolde had the time to respond.

 

*

 

Elissa steered her steps to the arl’s office. There was no use to postpone this. She felt as if the crumpled letters in her pocket burned through the fabric to her very skin. She opened the door without knocking it, and she saw Eamon look upon her in surprise from where he sat by his desk. She knew what she looked like, and Eamon cleared his throat.

“I take it you’ve spoken to Isolde”, he said and began stroking his beard thoughtfully.

“I have”, Elissa nodded and closed the door. Eamon gestured to the armchair, but Elissa approached him and dug in her pockets for the letters. Her voice was sharp like steel when she spoke. “It is your doing”. She glared at him. “It is you that betrayed the Crown and sent Cailan to his death, and don’t you dare to deny it. You have thousands of lives on your conscience”. _I was to gently confront him,_ she tried to remind herself as she shivered with fury. _But just looking at him makes me want to retch._

She threw the papers on the desk and he furrowed his brows as he carefully smoothed them out and skimmed through them.

“If Loghain knows about this - and he probably does, I understand why he did what he did”. Elissa clasped her hands behind her back, clenching them into fists.

Eamon sighed tiredly and rubbed his face. He suddenly looked frail, and with slow motions, he moved to the bar and poured himself a large glass of whisky, and after a quick glance, he poured another for Elissa. They all must think I’m a drunkard, Elissa thought to herself as she received the beverage and emptied it in a long drink, aware of the irony. She put the glass down on the desk with a loud bang. “Do you have anything to say to your defense?”

“I do”, Eamon said solemnly and looked out the window. “The question is if you’re listening”.

“Loghain detests Orlais more than anything else, and he loves Anora more than anything else. How could you not foresee this?” Elissa forced herself to take a deep breath, and dragged her fingers through her hair. “I hear you. I am all ears”, she muttered after a while.

Eamon sought Elissa’s eyes. “Ferelden was in need of an heir just to avoid the situation we’re in today. I respect Anora - she is a tremendous ruler, and I know she cared for my nephew. But imagine the great power a unity between Orlais and Ferelden would have, where Ferelden is its equal”.

Elissa snorted. “We will never be considered Orlais’ equal, and you know it. Empress Celene only wishes to control Ferelden, and have both the country as well as Cailan in a tight leash as the dogs they consider us to be. You know as well as I, that it was Anora that ruled the country while Cailan did – what did he even do?” A loud sigh left Elissa. “Only because you and Isolde --”

“Don’t drag Isolde into this!”, Eamon snarled and hit a fist into the desk, losing his temper. “I know what I have done and in hindsight, I wished it could be undone!”

Elissa shook her head disapprovingly and tramped to the door, resting her hand on the doorknob. “Do not make me regret saving your life, Eamon. Together you and I must mend the damage _you_ allowed Loghain to do”.

He stared at her, trying to compose himself. He then took a drink, and after lowering his glass, he asked her in a calmer voice; “And have you made a decision regarding…?”.

Elissa hissed now, not wanting to be reminded. “How am I to make a decision with my hands tied? It is not I, but the current circumstances that control this. You told me yourself, there is only way out of this mess”. _I have to save Ferelden. My duty is firstly towards the Blight, then Ferelden. I and my friends are but pawns in a game larger than our lives. Together, we must save those who are dependent on the land within these borders._ “Alistair must be made king, and with the help from Anora, we will buy ourselves time to find a solution to the problem regarding an heir”.

Eamon exhaled loudly. “A must wise conclusion, Warden-Commander”. He took the letters from the desk and stepped towards the hearth's dancing flames. In silence, Elissa watched as he tossed the papers into the fire.

Elissa watched as the letters succumbed, turning black before crumbling to ashes. “I will never forget, Arl of Redcliffe”, she told him.

“I don’t expect you to, Champion and savior of the same”.  

Elissa closed her eyes and remembered how she found Cailan back at Ostagar; crucified, humiliated. While Loghain was the one to blame for the king’s death, while Eamon was the one who schemed and gave Loghain the last push into treason, she was not much better. The late King of Ferelden didn’t even get peace in death, since she neglected to give him a funeral.

With tears burning behind her eyes, she turned the knob and hurried away.

 

*

 

Elissa shuddered, as she chanted through silent tears that kept on escaping her eyes. The chantry’s stone floor was chilly against her knees. She was down in the village, and had just spoken with Owen the blacksmith about having a mask made for her, as well as a new shield. He was too kind, Elissa thought, for making sure to prioritize her.

She had after that gone to the chantry, hoping to find Revered Mother Hannah. A sister told her that the Revered Mother had gone to sit vigil by a man’s death bed, but that she was welcome to wait for her. Elissa looked up at the statue of Andraste, trying to focus through dim eyes.

_“Blessed are they who stand before_

_The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter._

_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.”_

But what if peace only is reached by being unjust? In the snake pit called politics, who wasn’t corrupted? The throne itself is built upon secrets and lies. _Just as I am. I am the only one knowing the truth of who I am; I am damaged, I am a coward. I will never fill my parents’ shoes._

“ _Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow._

_In their blood the Maker's will is written.”_

_By lightning a new torch, new shadows emerge. What if my choices do nothing to improve the country’s situation, but worsen it? How will people react to have a Grey Warden as a king? How will the Grey Warden react to being a king? If he refuses…_

“ _’They will taunt you and humiliate you_

_While they hang you in the marketplace._

_They will pelt you with offal while they call you_

_Broken, a coward, and a failure.’”_

She rose up and pulled the robe closer around her. She had to see Alistair.


	33. Chapter 33

She knocked on Alistair’s door, and her heart rushed when he opened it. Alistair’s face that first lit up at the sight of her soon contorted when he noticed that she wore a mask covering a _scar_ , and he stepped out in the hall.

“Maker’s breath, Elissa! What happened?”, he wondered, closing the door behind him. Elissa heard Leliana’s melodic voice and Solona’s soft from within his chamber, and she moaned. She had to see him alone.

“Come with me”, she said quietly, not wanting the others to hear.

The women’s voices silenced, and she heard Leliana’s questioning voice. “Elissa?”. _Andraste’s holy knickers, how did she…?_

Elissa buried her face in her hands, and Alistair knit his brows, waiting for Elissa’s decision to either leave or step in. With a heavy sigh, she nodded to Alistair to reopen the door, and she met her companions’ faces. Solona’s eyes widened and Leliana gasped and almost stumbled as she hurried up to her. Leliana stopped in front of Elissa, afraid to overstep any boundary. They stood almost nose-to-nose, and gently she soon dared to let her fingers trickle along Elissa’s jaw. Elissa stepped back at that, averting her gaze.

“Is that why you wore…?”, Leliana breathed her question.

“Yes”, Elissa answered bitterly, “to hide Flemeths’s farewell gift”.

Leliana’s eyes misted, and Solona sat speechlessly, staring at her. Elissa felt her stomach twist, and she turned to Alistair, wanting nothing more than to flee. “I need to speak with you, alone. It is urgent”. Alistair nodded slowly and shared a glance with Solona.

“You can’t just leave!”, Leliana shouted with flaring eyes and clenched fists. The angry tone made her vowels roll, and Elissa thought to herself, that maybe she angered the woman over and over again, only to hear her voice. “Every time something happens, you leave or isolate yourself! I am _sick_ of it! You are not allowed to. Not this time”.

Elissa forced herself to look at Leliana, and she almost disappeared into her eyes. “I will not, Leli”, Elissa assured with a calmness she didn’t feel. _It is you that will leave me, once you see all of it. Once you_ hear _all of it_. “I just have to speak with Alistair first, alright?”

Leliana’s lips were pressed into a thin line and her eyes narrowed, but with an exhale, Leliana nodded and relaxed her tensed muscles. She had seen in Elissa’s eyes that she was earnest.

Alistair followed Elissa to her chamber. “I have much to tell you”, she said and sat down on the chair Wynne had used next to her bed. “And I need you to listen, my friend, because this is important. But before I begin, you need to vow that what is said in here stays here. Not even to Solona”. Alistair fidgeted with his collar nervously.

“On my mother’s grave”, he assured her as he wiped some sweat away from his brow. He proceeded to sit down on Elissa’s bed, and locked his eyes with her solemn gaze through her mask.

“Do you remember telling me what Duncan told you at the temple?” Alistair nodded. “If I remember correctly, he said that you are important, strong and honorable”, Elissa continued, and tried to ignore her rushing heart. Alistair heard that her voice was stern; it belonged to the daughter of a Teyrn - or maybe a Warden-Commander, not his friend.  “And I gave you his blades, so you always can remember him”. She paused, and walked to the dresser where she pulled out a drawer, and brought up the Joining chalice. She went back to the chair, sat down, and showed him the chalice with a sigh. “We all have made sacrifices, Alistair. The same moment we drank darkspawn ichor out of this chalice, we doomed ourselves”. Elissa shifted in her chair and closed her eyes before retaining the eye contact with him. “Our lives are built upon others sacrifices, and because you are what Duncan said you are, I beg you to do one last sacrifice. Not for me, but for Ferelden. Our birth land needs you to be her king, Alistair. A strong and honorable man. She deserves you”.

Alistair looked at her, eyes wide and brows raised in shock. “Me, a king?", he spluttered, "I can hardly get dressed in the morning!”. He frowned, and after another moment, Elissa caught a glimpse of a ghost of a smile. “Hah, _please_ , tell me this is one of your dumb jokes?”, he then drawled.

“Alistair, does it look like I am?”. She removed her robe and let her comrade-in-arms see all of her tattoos for the first time. “I have been away for over a week, and look at me. I am changed, and not only on the outside”. She leaned forward and grabbed his hands. “I will not force you into doing this, my friend. But if you don’t, there _will_ be a Civil War. Queen Anora _will_ be overthrown. Even if we end this Blight, war and poverty will strike our country into annihilation”.

“You are a Grey Warden! I am a Grey Warden!”. He stood up, face red from upset. “We are not to interfere with politics!” He shook a finger at Elissa’s indifferent face, and she slowly raised her hand, grasping his and lowering it. “When I joined the Order I resigned from any title and potential successorship”. He lowered his voice, but a fire still burned in his eyes. “I can’t believe you ask me of this”.

“You can still be in a relationship with Solona, if that is what you worry about. It is very common with paramours, and often, they can get an influential role if they are allowed”.

 “Paramours? _What_ are you talking about?”. Alistair ran a hand through his hair. “You say that I can’t even marry her if I – which I’m not, by the way, would be king?”

Elissa nodded with an icy gaze Alistair at that very moment came to detest.

“She is a mage of low birth, and thereto a Grey Warden. It would be impossible for you two to marry, never less groom an heir. You are to get married to Anora.”

Alistair gaped. “You are talking as if this is really happening”.

“It will happen”. Elissa rigidly rose up and stared into his eyes. “Because you will see that it is the right thing to do. You are not a man who risks the lives of thousands”.

“You said for just a minute ago that you’re not going to force me!”

“Oh, _I_ will not. The circumstances and consequences alone will”.

“I can’t believe this -- believe _you_. I stood up for you when you left, and you’re rewarding me by doing this?”

Elissa reached out a hand to him, and he shook his head while pushing it away.

“Talk with the arl if you want. He might make you understand. Just as Duncan said – you are important”. She bit her lip, and softened. “I know you do not want this, Alistair. I am… sorry, if that changes anything”.

“It doesn’t”, Alistair responded with an exasperated sigh. He sounded tired, just as if the whole world suddenly burdened him. It sort of did. “I… need to think about this”.

“Do that and we can talk later, with Eamon, if you would like. Just -–“

“'Don’t tell anyone, not even Solona', got it”. Alistair gave her a pale smile. “I’ll tell Lana to come here now, okey?”

“Thank you”, Elissa said with a slightly hoarse voice.

His hands lingered on the doorknob, hesitating. “Elissa… What happened to you when you’re away, really?”

“Sacrifices, Alistair. Sacrifices, shapeshifters, and secrets”. Elissa sent him a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And snow”.

 

Alistair didn’t meet Solona’s or Leliana’s eyes when he entered his chamber where they still sat and chatted. “What did she want to talk to you about?”, Solona asked Alistair with an arched brow. Frost was sleeping by the fire.

“Ah, it was nothing”. Leliana could easily see that Alistair lied -- he rubbed his head and a faint blush flamed his neck. “About Duncan’s blades, that’s all”. Solona narrowed her eyes.

“Mhm”, she hummed suspiciously.

Alistair cleared his throat, realizing how hard it would be for him to hide his and Elissa’s conversation from Solona. He turned to Leliana. “Eh, you can go to her, she’s waiting for you”.

 

The door was open and Leliana saw Elissa standing by the window, watching the snowy garden. Her shoulders looked tense. Soundless, Leliana closed the door and with light, swift movements she soon stood behind her lover, letting her hands gently circle her neck. Elissa was startled, and spun around with terror in her eyes. When she recognized Leliana, her expression relaxed and a small smile tugged her lips.

“I guess I deserved that”, she huffed and grasped Leliana’s hands, letting their fingers intertwine. _If I lose her now, I have nothing left to live for._

“I have been worried sick”, Leliana admitted weakly, “and all your secrecy doesn’t make it easier for me. You know that Alistair is the worst liar I’ve ever seen?”

“Secrets, secrets, secrets”, Elissa murmured in a hushed voice. “Countries are built upon secrets.”

“But relationships aren’t”, Leliana whispered back. “It is hard to trust you, Elissa. You broke the first promise you gave me.” She raised a pale, freckled hand and let it stroke the visible scar on Elissa’s lower cheek. _I can get used to it,_ Leliana thought. _She accepted mine._

Elissa flinched from her touch but didn’t hinder her. “You know why I couldn’t tell anyone – _you_ , about Flemeth”. Elissa sighed and gestured to the bed. “Can we sit? It is not even late afternoon yet, and I have already had an… exhausting, day”. They sat down and Leliana let her fingers trickle along with the ink on Elissa’s arms, from the wrist up to her shoulders, and she let the fingers continue up along her collarbone to the necklaces she wore.

“Do you remember when we were in Denerim?”, Elissa asked and Leliana hummed. “I am afraid of you hurting me - even more now, than I was then”. Elissa’s voice cracked. “I want to tell you everything that has happened. I… I do not want to hide from you. I am thinking that when we have finished the Blight, I can return to Haven and make it possible for you to look at me again”.  

Leliana grasped Elissa’s chin and forced Elissa to meet her eyes. “I have seen you at your worst, Elissa. You have accepted me as I am, and I accept you just as you are. In Denerim, I said that I’ll never ask you to change. I still stand for it”.

“You also said you never would ask for my hand, yet here we are. Exclusive and all that”, Elissa tried to jest, sniffling. _I am about to fall apart._ “I do not deserve you, Leli. I do not deserve being here. I… should have died with the rest of my family”

“Don’t say that”. Leliana briefly studied the mask that covered her lover’s face before returning to her eyes. “Don’t you ever say that”, she repeated more firmly.

“If you knew everything, I am afraid you would agree”. Elissa’s eyes got clouded with shame, and she grasped the quilt she sat on, trying to not lose her footing.  

“Then tell me”, Leliana begged. “You can’t carry everything on your own. It _devours_ you”.

“I love you”, Elissa whispered, for the first time uttering the words to her. “I love you so much that it is painful”. Her shoulders slouched, and she looked down at her gloved hands, letting tears fall freely. “I see the scar you carry on your shoulder – from the arrow you took for me, and then next to your navel, I see the scar you carry from Marjolaine’s betrayal. I lie to you, just as she did. Before I left, I told you I was nothing like her. Now I can not see how I am _not_ like her. We both know the amount of pain I cause you. I wish... I wish we could run away from this and start over. If it were not for that I am one of the three wardens left in Ferelden, I would have a long time ago. You see? I am nothing but a coward, a coward people now call Warden-Commander. I have always been that, hiding behind a bottle of wine and a plastered smile”. Elissa inhaled a deep, shuddering breath.

Leliana softened and swept down onto the floor, kneeling before Elissa. “Look at me”, she demanded and Elissa lifted her eyes to meet hers. “I took that arrow for you, yes, but it was _my_ choice and my choice alone. I am replaceable, you are not. Ah – _non_ , _mon Coeur,_ don’t object. I also want you to know that you are not like Marjolaine, not at all”. A single tear drifted down Leliana’s cheeks, slowly making its way down to her neck. “You have a good heart, and it shows; that is why _I_ love you.” A beat. “And braveness, _mon amour_ , is when one does something despite being afraid”.

Elissa leaned forward and nuzzled Leliana’s red hair. It smelled of cinnamon. “Then I must be one of the bravest in Thedas”.

Leliana straightened her back and sat back down beside Elissa, drying her cheeks with her sleeve. “Now, you shall tell me what _truly_ burdens you”.

Elissa let out a heavy sigh, and shivering, she told Leliana about how she found King Cailan at Ostagar and that she and Eamon want to see Alistair on the throne. Elissa didn’t mention Flemeth more than that the Chasinds’ probably were to join them against the Blight for her killing the Witch of the Wilds, and she also neglected to tell Leliana about the secret correspondence between Cailan and Empress Celene.

“So that’s what you wanted to speak with Alistair about, in private?” Leliana wondered as she played with a lock of her hair.

“Yes”. Elissa smiled faintly, “He was not very impressed”.

“Oh, I can imagine”.  A beat. “You really think he would be a good king?”

“It is not like we have many candidates to chose from”, Elissa admitted, “but yes, I do. He, a man of the people, together with Anora’s experience with ruling and how to handle the nobility, have the tools to repair Ferelden”.

Leliana hummed, pondering. “Solona will not be happy about this”

“No”. A small pause. “She will hate me. Oh, Leli, whatever my choices someone always gets hurt”.

“The important choices are rarely easy made”.

The dinner bell interrupted their conversation, and Elissa winced at the sound. “I bet my mask stirs some memories for you”, Elissa murmured. “Owen is making me another, so I can continue to travel around the country without getting lynched”.

Leliana touched the mask, not responding. The steel was cool against her fingertips. “I wish I could see your face”, she said carefully, hoping that their talk had softened her.

“No, my love, that is not going to happen”. Elissa’s tone had a determined sharpness to it. “I would rather die than see the look on your face as you lay your eyes on it”. Elissa let the words linger in the air for a while. “Now, let us go and eat. I have missed the meals that are served here, that is for sure, and I have yet to meet with Zev and Sten”.


	34. Chapter 34

Anora massaged her temples, and for the first time in many years, she allowed herself to think of her mother. Anora remembered much of Celia Mac Tir except for her true face. No, the face in her memories was replaced by the one from the painting that still hanged in Castle Gwaren. As a child, Anora had stared at it for hours in fear of forgetting her mother, but instead, it now distorted her every memory.  

Anora hated herself for not seeing Celia’s face, so she chose to focus on the feeling her mother’s safe embraces gave, the soft kisses given to her on her head and the singing voice that told her stories of great women long dead. It was first now Anora understood the sadness the teyrna always seemed to carry in her eyes, more prominent when she laughed - a burden borne with a gracefulness rarely seen. Celia had been a beautiful, kind commoner – daughter to a simple cabinet maker. Loghain didn’t care much for Celia’s background, being a farmer’s son himself. Loghain didn’t care much for Celia at all, Anora realized.  Well, once Loghain may have felt something for his late wife, but his love would always belong to Queen Rowan, King Maric and – most importantly, Ferelden. Still, Celia’s death had usurped his last sanity, the one he still had after the loss of both Rowan and Maric. Anora believed it was because her mother in some way could control his impulses and help him govern the teyrnship while he was taking care of the business that came with his responsibility as the country’s general.  

Anora seldom saw her father when she was young – or at least, she held only a very few memories of him. Loghain rather spent time in Denerim, guiding Maric in how to rule the land. Not even when Celia passed – from either illness or a broken heart, Loghain paid Anora much attention besides seeing to her betrothal with Cailan. First then, when the promise of a future alliance was made, Loghain seemed to notice her. He made sure she was taught everything a becoming ruler would need to know.

… Except for politics. Loghain was certainly not a good politician, Anora soon came to understand. He was too forthright in his ways and lacked the delicacy needed in politics when he spoke. So Anora taught herself, and she spent many hours reading about the country she was to rule with Cailan, determined to know everything about it. But Cailan, it turned out, was not interested in ruling. He was naïve, much like a child, who’d only wanted the fun life had to offer a monarch. Anora loved him anyway, despite being left to rule the whole kingdom on her own. She actually enjoyed ruling – it came naturally for her, except for the part where she didn’t get acknowledged for it.

No matter what she did, Loghain never seemed completely satisfied. Anora knew she was a good – no, _great_ , queen. The only fault she had was not being able to get pregnant. But, Anora thought bitterly, it is not easy when your husband rather... fraternizes with elves than spend time with his own wife. Loghain was well-aware of the monarchs’ situation and had even muttered that Cailan was too alike Maric in that matter, without clarifying it further. Anora wasn't sure if she even wanted to know.

Queen Rowan had passed away to the Fade when Cailan was young, a thing he and Anora had in common – both lost their mothers as children. The tales of the beautiful fighting Queen Rowan made Anora clench her jaws in envy; lest she would never be remembered as such. And Cailan’s grandmother, The Rebel Queen Moira, she didn’t even want to think about. Who was she in the eyes of the people? Not much more than a reserved but courtly Queen Consort that was married to King Cailan, son to the great King Maric. Not one of the plebes would believe that the two kings with the charming smiles were incapable of ruling on their own.

Anora buried her face in her hands. Her father had commit treason; even the dutiful Ser Cauthrien had admitted that. How was she to let him get away with it? Loghain had even – silently - supported the snake Arl Rendon Howe in slaughtering the whole House Cousland. But as the situation was now, she had no true power as a Queen Consort to a dead King, and could do nothing to put neither of them before justice. The only reason she still could sit on the throne was because of Loghain, who ruled as a regent in her place. She was about to lose the country she sacrificed her life for.

Oh, how she wished Celia and Elissa were here - the only ones who ever truly loved her for who she was. Anora felt a lone tear break free from the glacier she’d made her eyes into. She needed someone to support her, but she had no one. People would kiss her very feet without a second thought, but not a soul would listen to her emotions without doubting her capability to rule. That is why the tear surprised her, and she caught the droplet tenderly with her fingertip, careful not to disturb its surface tension. Anora had never participated in the Great Game, but neither was she inexperienced in hiding herself behind a mask, albeit an invisible one - not like in Orlais. For years, she had even believed she no longer held any true emotions; emotions that were tied to herself, and not her country.  

Anora was sure that Elissa would have supported her without a second thought. She was unwavering loyal and knew of the advantageous traits Anora possessed. The entire Cousland family would’ve supported her, knowing there was no one better suited than her to wear the crown in this upcoming country. Anora thought of herself that she, in this matter, was entire selfish less. In all matters, she pushed forward Ferelden's agenda and not her own.

Celia would, on the other hand, probably have encouraged her to step down from the throne to avoid being executed in a coup or locked into a tower. But Ferelden had no one, and Anora was sure that Celia could understand why Anora fought to keep the crown. Another war would break Ferelden into tiny fractions that’d like cancerous cells would rip the land apart until nothing else but death remains.

But the ‘another war’ was already here, devouring the country she sworn to nurture like the child she never had. Loghain refused to see it, but the reports that said another bannorn had fallen to the Blight came more frequently, and more and more refugees arrived in Denerim for every day. Loghain had made sure the Order of the Grey had perished from Ferelden, and was not willing to let the forces in Orlais come to their aid. Anora didn’t know much of the secretive Order Elissa oddly enough had joined right before her death, except for that they were the best suited to fight the darkspawn that invaded the lands.

Anora opened the dusty book she collected from the library. _'About the Grey Wardens',_ it was printed in gilded letters on brown, cracked leather. Anora sighed as her fingers lifted one yellowed page after another - the book was not very informative, more speaking of the four earlier Blights' and their greatest Commanders rather than the Order itself. It was just as Loghain had said – darkspawn regularly came up to the surface and were then killed by either the wardens or regular troops, even though the latter risked getting tainted. But then the creatures were mindless, walking without thinking. Not like now when entire settlements fell like stones, one after one other. How could he not see that?

Anora closed the book. Her hands were tied. She could do nothing about Howe or the Blight. She could do nothing about the treasonous father she still loved, despite his flaws and wrongdoings. If he didn’t even listen to Ser Daryn Cauthrien, he wouldn’t listen to her.

Anora was not very religious, but she needed a miracle. She had prayed for three people in her life. First, her mother. Second, her father. Third, her husband.

This time she clasped her hands and dedicated the prayer to Ferelden, and thereby, herself.


	35. Chapter 35

Morrigan sat next to Wynne as the older mage showed her how to prepare a new type of poultice. Morrigan, however, didn’t quite listen to what Wynne said, because her mind kept drifting off – which was highly unusual for her and, Morrigan thought, most irritating.

The snow had begun to disappear in favor of emerging, green shrubs, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the new turns in her life. Flemeth was gone - the only one until Elissa stepped into her life that somehow had shown any type of affection towards her. Morrigan heard Wynne’s muted words in the background and her heart twisted. For a short moment, she allowed herself to imagine how her life would have been if it had been Wynne who raised her. The pleasant fantasy shattered as she realized that Wynne probably would have turned her into the Circle (and, horrible thought – she would maybe have turned into a dark-haired variant of Solona!), but still.

 _Back to Flemeth._ Morrigan looked absentminded on the herbs in front of her. _Or, rather, the new grimoire._ She turned her gaze to Elissa who sparred with Zevran. The Warden-Commander and Sten were almost the only ones who paid the elf any attention – if now Sten’s responding grunts and disapproving glares could count as that. Zevran didn’t seem to care, though. Morrigan watched as the two danced around each other with their daggers. They both looked quite fearful – the assassin with his face tattoo and devilish grin, and Elissa with the new silverite mask Owen had made for her after her wishes; it covered all of her left face, except for the lips. 

It was only Wynne and that maid Elissa somehow was so fond of that had seen the entirety of the scar. For a couple of days ago, Morrigan overheard Solona and Leliana speak about it. It turned out that not even the singing bard that had stolen Elissa’s heart (what else had she stolen in her days?) had been allowed to see it. Solona later asked Wynne about it, but the older mage only narrowed her eyes and answered the younger Circle mage with an authoritarian headshake, saying she had nothing to tell them. Morrigan respected Wynne for that. Loyalty was not easy to get these days, especially not for the appointed leader of the ‘treasonous’ Grey.

Elissa hadn’t told Morrigan anything about Flemeth’s passing. The apostate admitted to herself that she was curious, but just as Elissa never pushed her, she wouldn’t push Elissa for answers. The braid down Elissa’s neck dangled as she moved with a rogue’s ability, charging at Zevran. Leliana had removed the Chasinds’ small braid from the warden’s hair and instead braided it in some kind of… what had Leliana called the hairstyle? 'A mix between Ferelden and Orlais', Morrigan now remembered that the redhead proudly had proclaimed earlier this morning when she and Elissa had stepped out from their tent. Morrigan shook her head at the memory.

“You killed me!”, Zevran laughed windedly as Elissa managed to put her blunted dagger beneath his ear. “But at least I took you with me, my lady warden. Care to spend an eternity with me?”. Zevran had his directed at her armpit, where he with ease could have punctured her heart.

“I would rather _Fade_ away”, Elissa smirked back, clearly content with her remark. Morrigan noticed that Elissa’s fingers sought the mask’s edge and lifted it slightly in a try to let the underlying skin breathe, before she wiped away the sweat from her brow.

Elissa’s gaze met Morrigan’s and Elissa quickly turned away. Morrigan had an intuition telling her that there was something important Elissa hid from her. _But then again_ , Morrigan clenched her jaw, _I am doing the very same_. _The grimoire…_

Normally, Elissa would’ve been approaching her and Wynne. Morrigan could even hear her voice as she imagined it. _‘Oh, a poultice’,_ Elissa would’ve said. _‘For my heart that Blackbird keeps breaking?’_ But no, not since Elissa returned from the Wilds had she done or said anything like that.

“Child, am I boring you?”, Wynne asked with a sigh when she saw that Morrigan seemed to be attentive to everything else than her and the poultice.

“No”, Morrigan answered as Wynne drew her back to reality. “I’m just…”. Morrigan stroked her lips. “I need to be by myself”. A bit surprised, Wynne watched as Morrigan transformed herself into a wolf and disappeared into the tree’s surrounding the glade they camped in.

Wynne puffed as she bent down to pick up the rags Morrigan insisted to wear from the cold ground, and threw them into the witch’s tent. The cold made her joints hurt more than usual, and it was hard for her not to let it show. She began to pace towards the bigger fire where the rest of the companions sat. Elissa, still clammed from her and Zevran’s sparring, had begun strumming on the lute and accompanied Leliana’s song that filled the air with beautiful tones. It wasn’t a cheerful song, Wynne heard, but rather one of sorrow. Solona and Alistair sat on the log by the fire, holding hands and leaning into each other.

 _Sweet, young love,_ Wynne thought as she watched them _. I have been loved, and most importantly, I have loved. When this is over, I can finally die in peace._ Solona’s face lit up as she saw her former mentor approach. “Wynne! Come, you can sit here”, she said and patted the seat next to her.

“Oh”, Wynne responded. “Thank you, dear”. Leliana sang the song’s last note and Zevran applauded when the music silenced.

“ _Muy bien_ , magnificent ladies”.

Elissa smiled at him and placed the lute on the ground before she looked at Leliana. “We could have been quite the minstrels in another life, couldn’t we?”

“ _Oui._ I believe taverns all over Thedas would have wanted us”, Leliana giggled softly.

 Frost nuzzled Solona’s leg, and Solona petted her. The hound waved her stubby tail, grateful for the attention, and lay down by her feet, content.

“I wonder where the Dalish are”, Elissa mused and let her gaze wander across the tree lines. They were on the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest. When they had spoken to the elves about the treaties, they only had to leave for Orzammar and the dwarves before returning back to Redcliffe and, as Alistair had called it, ‘get the party started’. Elissa leaned her chin against her hand and looked at the future king of Ferelden. Or rather, _maybe_ the future king of Ferelden. Alistair had avoided the topic ever since the time they first talked about it, saying he needed ‘time to think’. Elissa felt something in her twist as she watched Solona curl up to his chest, and Alistair met Elissa’s gaze. In his brown eyes, Elissa saw a battle take place. Duty against love. In the tales Leliana spoke of, in the tales Nan and Eleanor had told for her when she was young, love always prevailed.

But this – their life, was far from any tale, even though Leliana was convinced that someday people would write about the group of misfits who saved Thedas from the fifth Blight. Elissa broke their eye contact. If the duty in Alistair’s eyes lost to the love of the woman he gently held in his arms, the rest of Ferelden’s people would lose their opportunity to love due to unleashed chaos.

“Oh, but I doubt they wonder where _we_ are”. Zevran peeled the bark off a stick. “I’m more surprised they haven’t killed us yet”. He grinned. “My mother was Dalish, actually. I was young when she died, and I went to live with her clan… for a while”.

“You did?”, Elissa wondered without hiding her surprise. To envisage Zevran living with the Dalish elves was a challenge for her imagination. “How was it?”

“Horrible, my lady warden, just _horrible_. Trees and stones everywhere made me miss the smell of brothels terribly”.    

Elissa laughed lightly. “Well, _that_ I can understand”. Leliana sent her a glare and Elissa cleared her throat, blushing. “I mean that I miss cities, in general”. She gave Leliana an apologetic grin and Leliana could do nothing but smile back, shaking her head so the red hair swayed.

“I do as well”, Leliana admitted with a sigh. “While the forest is peaceful, I miss a proper bed. My back is all sore from the twigs and stones I have beneath my bedroll”.

“And our campfires are making Solona smell like a smoked sausage”, Alistair added with pouted lips. The woman in question smacked his arm.

“If I smell like smoked sausage, your armor makes you smell like cheese”.

Alistair nodded, not denying it. “It seems as if we’re quite the buffet”.

Solona furrowed her brows and groaned. “Ugh. Now I’m hungry, _again_ ”. Her stomach growled. They hadn’t eaten on the whole day. Solona, Frost, and Leliana had been out hunting but came back empty-handed, and the eatable herbs that had begun to grow were still scarce. Thereto, they were out of the provisions given to them by the arl.

“After your colorful descriptions of how you two smell, I am glad someone still is”, Wynne smiled rowdy.

Solona’s eyes glittered. “Oh”, she exclaimed happily and turned her gaze to Leliana and Elissa. “Have I ever told you about when Wynne wanted to talk to me about where babies come from?”

“This will be interesting”, Alistair chuckled and scratched the stubble on his chin.

Wynne laughed and waved a hand in the air. “Maker, no, don’t bring that up, dear”.

“When I was, I don’t know, around fifteen?” Solona looked to Wynne for confirmation ignoring her protests. The older woman nodded with a small grin. “She approached me and said; ‘I know the Chantry says you dream about your babies, and that the good Fade spirits take them out of the Fade and leave them in your arms... but that's not true. Actually what happens is that when a girl and a boy really love each other –‘“

“Yes, yes,” Wynne said with soft eyes and grabbed the younger mage's hand. “And then you interrupted me with a face redder than a tomato, and told me you were very well aware”.

Their laughter died out and the two mages sat in silence for a moment, lost in memories.

“I can take the first watch tonight”, Elissa offered after a while. A faint blush crept up her neck. “Maybe Frost can stay with me?”, she asked Solona shyly. Elissa knew that mabaris rather were with their masters or mistresses, but she missed Truce so much it hurt. It was not unusual for Elissa to still sleep with his collar and kaddis paint next to her. Frost barked and looked up to Solona, waiting for her allowance.

“Yes, of course”, Solona responded as if it went without saying, and Frost ran to Elissa’s side and curled next to her feet, just as Truce used to.

“Thank you”, Elissa mumbled and let her hands stroke the dog’s back.

“Do you want me to me stay up with you?”, Leliana wondered and Elissa shook her head at the question.

“You need to sleep, Leli”, she said mildly. “But when Morrigan returns, I am sure she will keep me company”.

Morrigan didn’t return until the morning sun already heated the ice-covered ground.


	36. Chapter 36

Morrigan sat outside Elissa’s and Leliana’s tent, waiting on the former. She crinkled her nose at the quiet murmurs that came from within, and was pleased when she heard Elissa saying she had to get up. Leliana protested softly with a drowsy voice, but Morrigan heard the sound of creaking leather as Elissa donned her armor. Then some smacking sounds – kisses, Morrigan understood with a disgusted curl on her lips, before Elissa finally exited the tent.

“You’re back”, Elissa said in surprise as she noticed the apostate. Elissa’s hair was tousled, and she cocked a questioning brow. “I waited for you half the night. I almost got worried”. She smiled wanly. 

“Hmph”. Morrigan narrowed her eyes, eager to tell Elissa her news. “I have seen something you should be aware of”. She rose up and walked with swaying hips to Elissa, placing herself face to face with her. “Werewolves. But as always, I have a solution. I found another route”. Elissa furrowed her brows, sending her an incredulous look. “To the Dalish camp, which I found”, Morrigan added, exasperated that she even needed to explain.

“Oh, Blackbird. What would I do without you?”. The shimmer in Elissa's eyes disappeared, and she looked concerned. “Werewolves, you say?”

“Yes, werewolves. Has the bard’s singing injured your hearing?”

Elissa chuckled at that. “No.” Annoyed she stroke her mask’s edge. “I am so tired of this”, she groaned. “It disturbs my vision”. 

“Then remove it”, Morrigan said simply. 

Elissa muttered. “You know I can not do that. Flemeth made sure to fuck me up before… departing”. Elissa could have sworn she saw Morrigan’s features shadowed for a split of a second. “I am sorry”. Elissa hanged her head. “I should not have said that”.

“Do not ever apologize to me”. Morrigan rested her hands on her hips.  

Elissa looked into Morrigan’s eyes. “Then I am sorry I apologized”. Morrigan snorted but felt a smile tugging her lips.

“So. Werewolves?”. Elissa sighed dramatically and dragged a hand through her hair. The movement was hindered by a knot, and she tried to untangle it, grimacing. “Ugh. Why can not anything be easy?”.

 

*

 

Morrigan led them the way to the Dalish settlement she found the night before. Elissa decided that they were to leave Sten behind with the horses at the camp, not willing to lead the animals closer to the werewolves - especially not Cammo.

They stopped walking through the Brecilian Forest when Alistair let a high-pitched wail rip through the air. The unexpected sound silenced the birds’ singing.

“Lana, Wynne!”, Solona called with an equally as concerned as amused tone. “Alistair is stuck in a trap. _Again_ ”.

“You should let me and the delightful redhead go first”, Zevran said to Elissa with a shrug, “If he insists on putting his lovely limbs in the traps we’ll never arrive at the camp. It slows us down”.

“He is right, _mon Coeur_ ”, Leliana agreed reluctantly, still not fond of him. “We are the only ones who can spot them”.

Elissa chuckled as Leliana and Solona helped Alistair out of the trap, and Wynne healed the minor wounds.

“What do you say, Alistair? Bored with being our courageous pioneer?” 

He grinned as he wiped his muddy hands on his armor, staining the metal. “No, never! I believe I am an expert in traps by now. You see, Commander Cousland, it is not all who has the knowledge what it feels like to be stuck in them”.

“Hmm”, Leliana hid her smirk behind her gloved hand, “You still have to work on the getting-out-of-them-part before you can call yourself an expert”.

“And recognizing them”, Solona added as she grabbed his still dirty hand, sharing a glance with Wynne.

“You may have a point or two”, he said with a lopsided smile, “but I’d rather walk into these traps than the ones Morrigan sets up for me. Traps made by _words_.” He shivered theatrically. “They are deadly”.

Morrigan clicked her tongue. “Tsk. If you don’t shut up, I will turn you into a toad and throw you into a stew”.

“See?”, Alistair grinned, gesticulating towards her. “ _Deadly_ ”.

 

*

 

“So, what have you heard of the Grey Wardens of the old?”, Wynne asked while Leliana and Zevran together destroyed another trap.

“I know they soared through the skies on griffons”, Solona smirked and pointed on the crest on her chest.

“Yes”, Elissa said with shrugging shoulders as she studied what the rogues did with the trap, “That is pretty much it”.

Wynne huffed. “Griffons! Alas, that seems to be the only thing people remember from the tales – the mighty flying mounts that bore the Grey Wardens into battle”.

“Can you blame us, Wynne?”. Solona sent her former mentor a glance. “The ones who were to teach us more passed away only a day after our Joining”.

“I… I know that”, Wynne sighed. She closed her eyes as she remembered the battle that had claimed so many lives. She was lucky to be alive – if one in her weary condition now could be called that.

“Well”, Alistair interjected, “I wish I had a griffon. Would make traveling easier. Not as many traps in the air”.

Wynne shook her head as she looked at Alistair. “Unfortunately, they have all passed into the Maker’s hands, so that wish will have to go unfulfilled”.

Solona had a twinkle in her eye. “Can you tell us more about the griffons?”

“Very well --”. Wynne stopped as the trap snapped closed with a high metallic sound.

“We are fine”, Leliana alerted them when their heads cautiously whirled in their direction.

“But I nearly lost my fingers!”, Zevran complained, staring at his hand. It was first now he realized how precious the appendages were.

Elissa cocked a brow, waving her hand in his direction. “Do you really want to say more about that, Zev?”

He sent her a sheepishly smile. “Nope, not really, my lady warden”.

Elissa looked back at Wynne. “You may continue, dear Senior Enchanter”.

Wynne clicked with her tongue. “Thank you, child. As I was meaning to say; it was said that watching the Wardens ride in on their white griffons was enough to rouse a weary heart, and put the dance back in the step of an old man. The Grey Wardens were powerful – feared and respected, but they also inspired the common people. I remember a tale that was told to me, many years ago…”

Solona grinned as she couldn’t help herself; “Does it have griffons in it?”

“Maker’s mercy!”, Wynne exclaimed and buried her face in her hands. “It is like I am talking to children!”.

“Tell me about it”, Morrigan muttered. “You always send me to babysit them drinking”.

“That is because she knows I dream of drinking you under the table”, Elissa winked to Morrigan. Leliana shook her head. “Alas, you never do”.

“Wynne, you didn’t answer my question!”, Solona pouted with her lips.

“Yes, Solona…”. Wynne sighed heavily. “There are griffons in this story”. She cleared her throat and almost expected to be interrupted again. When the three Grey Wardens only looked at her with genuine curiosity, she dared to continue. “The Blight had ravaged the land for months, and the armies of the great kings had amassed for one last stand. As the sun burst through the clouds that boiled and churned in the dark sky above, it illuminated a vast seething horde of darkspawn, with the archdemon at its head. And it was then - when the courage seemed to fail, and all lost to death and despair - that the Grey Wardens came. They arrived with the beating of wings like mighty war drums, and stood before the armies of men”.

“May I guess that the wings belonged to griffons?”, Elissa asked with a crooked smile, earning a snicker from Solona. Wynne huffed again and sent them a glare.

“Yes… griffons. Now listen to the rest of the story”. Wynne gave her a stern look, reminding Elissa of the ones Nan used to give her. “The Grey Wardens, grim and fearless, marched forth, ever between the men and the encroaching darkspawn. They formed a shield of their own bodies and held that line until the archdemon was dead and the last darkspawn lay trampled in the dirt. And then, demanding neither reward nor recognition for their sacrifice, the Grey Wardens departed. When the clouds finally rolled back and the sun shone full upon the blighted ground, the great kings knew that they had lost no men, and none of their blood had been spilled”.

“A happy ending”, Alistair murmured, seeking Solona’s now somewhat somber eyes.

“This is a tale about no battle the Grey Wardens have fought, and yet about them all. They have always defended us from the darkspawn, taking losses so we do not have to. People may have forgotten over the centuries, but nothing has changed. This knowledge has been a blessing and burden to Grey Wardens past, and now, it shall be your blessing – and your burden”.

The silence lay heavy as the three Grey Wardens mulled what had been said.

 “We are neither especially grim nor fearless”, Elissa murmured. Leliana joined her by her side, gently grabbing her hand. Elissa let their fingers intertwine.  

Solona shrugged, regaining the twinkle in her eyes. “But we would make a most formidable shield”

Alistair grimaced, letting his arm rest around Solona’s waist. “I still wish we had griffons”.

“Children!”, Wynne exclaimed once more. Neither of them missed the smile that curled the older woman’s lips.

Zevran stepped forward, clapping his hands slowly. “A wonderful story, dear Wynne. Shall we continue our journey?”

“’Tis not far to the Dalish”, Morrigan said, folding her arms.

“No, _shemlens_ , it is not far”.

The companions stiffened as a new, female voice joined in. Elissa’s eyes jumped to where she believed the voice came from. A group of elven archers emerged from the trees, with nocked arrows directed at them.

“ _Garas quenathra_? Why do you seek us?”

An elven woman with a vallaslin stepped forward, pointing at Elissa with her bow. She looked at Elissa warily, and her voice was as sharp as the arrow that threatened to pierce Elissa’s chest. “Speak now, or never again”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a late update, but the Nature of the Beast quest is sooo boring and I've been suffering from writer's block. :(  
> 


	37. Chapter 37

Elissa bored her eyes into the elf’s.

“We are Grey Wardens”, Elissa said with the most authoritative tone she could muster, pointing at the griffon on her chest.

“Hmph. What business could we Dalish possibly have with a group like yours?”, the woman asked with narrowed eyes, her companions hummed assenting while giving each other looks.  

“We are here to enforce the treaties”.  Elissa glanced at Alistair, with her eyes pointing at his pack. “If we may?”, Elissa asked, gesturing to the pack.

The elf nodded slowly, the muscles on her arms twitching, prepared to snipe her with the readied bow. Alistair carefully opened his pack and brought out the elven treaties Flemeth gave him that morning a lifetime ago. He held up the parchment, letting the elven woman and her companions see it.

“ _Andaran atish’an,_ Grey Wardens”. She lowered her bow and her two companions followed suit, leading to Alistair exhaling in relief. “Excuse us. We have had… troubles, with humans before. I am Mithra”. Mithra sent Zevran a short glance, snorting. She had no respect for flat ears.

Elissa inclined her head in a respectful nod. “I am Warden El --” She cleared her throat. “Warden-Commander Elissa Cousland”, she presented herself, “and this is Warden Alistair and Warden Solona Amell”. Elissa thought it was for the best not to mention Alistair’s true last name. “The rest of our companions are not Grey Wardens, but are still aiding us against the Blight”.

“Then I assume you want to speak with Keeper Zathrian”. Mithra chewed on her inner cheek as she pondered, giving the treaty a last glance. It looked authentic. “We will take you to him. But you do well in remember that we will keep our arrows trained at you”. She glared at Zevran. “So you better keep your hands to yourself”.

 

*

 

“I see we have guests”, Keeper Zathrian hummed as he laid eyes on the newcomers that followed the group of scouts. He turned to Mithra. ”Why, Mithra, have you brought them here?”

“They claim they are Grey Wardens”, Mithra answered, almost sulkily, and Zathrian nodded understandingly as he saw the griffons that decorated the three Grey Wardens’ armor.

“I see. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Zathrian, the keeper of this clan, its guide, and preserver of ancient lore”.

“I am pleased to meet you”, Elissa said before bobbing a slight bow. She wished she spent more time in Highever’s alienage, since she knew nothing about elven manners. She had only spoken to the alienage’s _Hahren_ Sarethia briefly, while happening to intrude the meetings he had with her father or Fergus. “I am Elissa Cousland, Warden-Commander of Ferelden”.

“Cousland?”, Zathrian wondered with an arched brow. “Yes, I have heard of that name. We have had a few refugees from the… incident, at Highever coming here, seeking their roots”.

Elissa nodded. Her mouth parched at the reminder, and she felt Leliana’s eyes burn in her back.

“I invite you and your followers to our camp, Commander Cousland. Please, join me by the fire”, Zathrian said and gestured to one of the campfires, where an elderly woman sat. Elissa noted that all of the clan members stared at her and her companions with caution. She hoped they would relax as soon they saw they meant no harm.

“ _Andaran atish’an_ ”, the older woman greeted her as she and Zathrian sat down on the wooden bench. “I am Marethari Tali, Keeper of the Sabrae clan”.

“Warden-Commander Elissa Cousland”, Elissa introduced herself yet again, puzzled. She scanned the area after her companions, hoping to find Leliana’s fiery hair. She, Wynne or Zevran knew more about the Dalish than herself. Oh, how she needed them, but it seemed as if they had vanished; she was now on her own. She cursed internally _. Does a Dalish clan have two keepers_?

“Are you the Warden-Commander?”, Marethari wondered, knitting her brows. “What about Duncan…?”

Elissa swallowed and fought against letting her shoulders droop. “He fell during the Battle of Ostagar”, she explained, trying to keep a solemn tone. “Nearly all wardens did. It is only I and two others left”.

“I see”. A pause. “The news you bring saddens me deeply”, Marethari inclined her head. “He was the one who told us to leave due to the impending Blight. My clan has suffered… great losses”. Her voice thickened. “Zathrian has been kind enough to let us rest here for a short while. My clan plans to head to the Free Marches, via Gwaren’s port. The… peculiar situation here has unfortunately hindered us from traveling further”. She looked at Zathrian. “I am afraid we have overstayed our visit, Keeper”.

“No, no. You are welcome to stay as long as you want, Marethari”, Zathrian assured her with a graceful nod. “About the situation –“. He was about to explain what Marethari meant when a young woman approached them.

Marethari lit up as she saw the elf. “Commander, this is Merrill, the First to the Keeper”. Marethari noticed Elissa’s puzzled face, and stifled a wan, knowing smile. Most outsiders knew as well as nothing about the Dalish. “She is my apprentice, and hopefully when I return to the ground, she will take my place as the clan’s keeper”.

“Oh, _Aneth ara_ ”, Merrill smiled to Elissa as the tip of her ear twitched nervously. “Marethari, _Hahren_ Paivel wishes to speak with you. He… He says it is urgent”.

“Is it so?”. Marethari turned to Zathrian and Elissa. “If you will excuse me, Warden-Commander. We will have a chance to talk later”.

“Of course”, Elissa told her with a smile, seeking Zathrian’s gaze. When the two women had left, she brought up the treaty.

“Yes. I am familiar with this”, he murmured after reading the parchment that commanded him and his clan to join the forces against the Blight. “But I fear that this is not possible. Not until the situation here has been dealt with, at least”.

Elissa bit her lip. “Situation?” A beat. “… Might it be related to the werewolves?”, she inquired carefully.

 “It certainly is”, he responded with darkened eyes. The camp fire’s flames that were reflected in them did nothing to lighten his aura. “How did you know?”

“We found traces of them”, she said vaguely, clenching her hands.

The flames reflecting in his eyes seemed to root themselves there, because when he rose up and gestured her to come with, they burned on their own.

“If you demand our help, I will demand yours first. We… are otherwise not able to live up to the promises signed by us centuries ago”. His voice was heavy as they began walking through the camp. “The werewolves have claimed many of our lives. I have sensed the corruption from the Blight, and just as Keeper Marethari, I have thought about taking the clan north. Ferelden would surely not miss us”, he added bitterly. “But the werewolves are an even more imminent threat to our kind than the Blight, as it now seems.”

He stopped as they came to the camp’s overcrowded infirmary. Men and women lay whining and whimpering on provisional cots, their wounded bodies covered in scratches. “We shouldn’t have returned”, he sighed deeply, a sound that was filled with regret and guilt for the people he was to protect. “The clan came to the Brecilian Forest a full moon ago, as is our custom when we enter this part of Ferelden. We are always wary of the dangers lurking in the forest, but this… we did not expect. The werewolves were waiting for us. They managed to ambush us and now… most of our warriors lie dying”. He winced as one of the warriors shrieked in pain and fear. “Despite our knowledge in healing and magic, we cannot save them. I don’t think you understand”. His eyes bored into Elissa’s, who refused to waver. “We have to slay our brethren to prevent them from becoming beasts”.

“We shall do our best to help you”, Elissa said as she let her eyes wander over the injured people. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought about Highever. What did the alienage look like now, after Howe’s assault? “But first, my companions need to eat and rest, and I need to know as much as possible about the beasts. And, if you would allow it, I would appreciate meeting the refugees from Highever”.

Zathrian nodded approvingly. “Then, we shall not waste any time. Come with me, Commander.”

 

*

 

Elissa bit on her nails, drumming her thigh with the other. Apparently, the werewolves were intelligent and thereto she had to bring Zathrian the heart of the curse’s origin – a werewolf named Witherfang. She groaned. After she’d done this, there was only Orzammar left. Hopefully, getting the dwarves aid would be easier. She shook her head; at least she had lucky enough to have been unconscious during the Circle Tower and missed all that had transpired there. Elissa sent Solona a thoughtful glance. Her friend had courageously stepped up, taking the commando, saving both the mages’ and her own life. _Maybe… she is willing to be the future Warden-Constable, if Alistair becomes King?_

In the distance, the elves held another burial for another fallen brethren. She heard them chanting their mourning songs, and recognized the Elven Prayer for the Dead.

_“O Falon’Din,_

_Lethanavir – Friend to the Dead_

_Guide my feet, calm my soul_

_Lead me to my rest.”_

Their death rite was finished after they planted a tree above the grave, symbolizing that death was a natural part of the cycle of life. What had Merrill called it? Death, Entropy, Life and Eternity.

Zathrian, Marethari and their First’s – Lanaya and Merrill, had taken their time to taught her a great deal about the Dalish. She was glad for the information, and she began to understand their general distaste towards humans. She hung her head in shame. She had never harbored any ill feelings for the race – she had, after all, been brought up that way – but on the other hand, she hadn’t cared either. The little knowledge she held was after meeting a Dalish prostitute once in Denerim and what her parents and Nan had told her. Iona and her friends Elissa met in the Denerim’s alienage had never really talked about their own origins or culture – despite they knew she was a Cousland.

She pondered what Lanaya had said about humans; “A poet once wrote of them, before the fall of the Dales: 'Like Dragons they fly, glory upon wings. Like dragons they savage, fearsome pretty things.'” At least she understood the allegory well, Elissa thought bitterly as she fidgeted on the mask’s edge, grateful none of the elves seemed to react to her bearing it.

“There you are, sneaky minx!”, Elissa whirled her head in the sound’s direction, knowing it belonged to the woman she loved more than life itself, “I have looked for you absolutely  _everywhere_ ”.

“Ah, and at last you managed to find me”, Elissa said with a pale smile, welcoming Leliana with open arms. Leliana fell down next to Elissa and let herself be pulled into her warm embrace.

“And I always will”, Leliana kissed the lobe of Elissa’s ear. She narrowed her brows slightly. “ _Mon Couer,_ you seem far away”, she stated worriedly while stroking Elissa’s bare cheek with soft fingers.

“I am just thinking, my love”. Elissa’s arm around Leliana tightened. “About Highever and my… privilege”. She smiled crookedly and leaned her chin against Leliana’s head. “At least the wardens are more hated than the elves, for the moment being. It is kind of amusing, that being a part of the order forced me down to the ground”. Elissa let her lips brush against Leliana’s head. “How are you, Leli?”

Leliana sighed lightly. “Better now after I’ve eaten, but honestly... it has been a long day”.

“Since I have decided not to bring you, Alistair and Wynne with”, Elissa then said calmly, “you will get a chance to rest”.

“Ha-ha. No, Elissa, that is not going to happen”. Leliana removed herself from Elissa’s embrace, letting her intense gaze pierce into Elissa. When Leliana saw that Elissa was serious, she frowned. “I want to come! I can’t stand staying here when you are out there, doing Maker knows what”, she argued fiercely, gesticulating to the forest.  

“My words are law, love”, Elissa said with a lopsided smile. She had expected Leliana’s reaction – honestly, she would have been disappointed if her lover hadn’t reacted. “And I can not wait until I come back and can curl up next to you.” Elissa saw that Leliana wasn’t convinced nor pleased at all. Elissa sighed, still smiling. “See this as a chance to learn more about the Dalish, Leli. And if you talk to them, it might improve our future relations”, she tried to coax.

“Hmph”, Leliana muttered, still not convinced.

“You won’t be bored”, Elissa winked, knowing the nomadic people had many tales in store Leliana would love to hear. “And… next time when we are in Denerim, I will buy you not one but _two_ pairs of shoes”.

That seemed to catch her attention. Leliana looked at her Fereldan boots frowning – they were comfortable, but not very fashionable.

“I have already promised to find Zev a pair in Antivan leather. You will get such a pair as well. Deal?”.

“Deal”. Leliana leaned back into Elissa’s arms.

In the distance she saw Alistair and Solona sit by a fire, eating. Elissa stifled a guilty sigh, giving Leliana’s hair another kiss.

If Alistair and Anora were on the throne, Elissa could persuade them to improve the elves' situation in all of Ferelden – not just Highever. Just as the University of Orlais accepted elves, the University of Ferelden could. 

And regarding the mages status; Alistair would do anything to improve Solona’s situation. Elissa hummed for herself. If she now had to rebuild the Order, Alistair had to be king, and save Ferelden from itself.

When the werewolves were dealt with, he would _not_ get to postpone the discussion any further.


	38. Chapter 38

 

Solona growled as she dodged from yet another branch that whipped at her. Frost let out what could be interpreted as a sigh - maybe the mabari thought her mistress growl didn't rumble deep enough. 

“Elissa”, Solona muttered as she straightened her back and untangled her staff that had been caught in a bush in her quick retreat. “Please, warn me next time”.

Elissa looked back at her over her shoulder, and the dim light emitting from Solona’s staff made her mask glister. Noticing what she had done, she shrugged with a small, sheepish smile. “Oh. Sorry. I forgot”. Elissa squinted her eyes, returning to survey the half-dark surroundings, the sheepish smile gone.

Zevran reached out to help Solona remove a few sticks that stuck to her stuff, earning a set of narrowed eyes focusing on him. Solona pulled the staff away from him – in a quite rudely way, if Zevran had a say in it.

“I can manage on my own, thank you”.

“I am most certain of that, dear Solona”, Zevran said in a lighthearted response, knowing he would never be considered a friend by anyone in the party but Elissa. He paused as he with swift hands killed an annoying, buzzing mosquito that thirsted for his blood. “I just wanted to help”, he continued while cleaning his hands against his leather pants, removing the evidence and body parts of the murder he just committed.

Morrigan snorted at the assassin. Mithra, whose ear twitched at Morrigan’s sudden noise, gave her a sideward glance before returning to look forward along the deer trail they followed. The Dalish elf swallowed as she stroked her bow, a motion that seemed to calm her. Mithra thought of herself as brave, but to willingly seek after the pack of werewolves that had doomed many of her battle trained friends to death, made her more jittery than she would like to admit. 

 

*

 

A part of Morrigan savored the sensation of being back in a dense forest. She believed she knew everything there was to know on how to use the elements to her advantage. Slippery roots on the ground and moss-covered stones were great, natural traps while running away from short-tempered templars in heavy armor.

She didn’t need to take the form of a wolf or a bear to survive – no, even live quite comfortably – among the trees.

The forests’ many sounds were familiar to her. The sussurrating fronds always sang a melody of comfort when the dark scared her, as did the halla’s bark in the distance. Violin-playing insects made the most beautiful of orchestras.

Even the heart-twisting screams of prey that were devoured alive by its predator reminded her of home.

When she was young - before Flemeth had taught her what the origins of those screams were, Morrigan had curled together in her cot as the angstfilled wailings began, hiding beneath her blanket, believing the otherworldly sounds came from a woman that was being raped.

It was a sick age they were living in, Morrigan thought, that the sound of an abused woman were familiar for a child whereas the sound of an animal dying was not. But maybe, she mulled with pursed lips, it was not that big of a difference between the two.  

The other part of her, however, longed back to what was called civilization. She didn’t like the din of the city or the throngs of people that moved through the streets like cattle from one pen to another. But she enjoyed – and this she would admit to no one, maybe not even herself – the feeling of being a part of what apparently was called for a society. Instead of only being a part of the circle of life, or acting as a secret audience hidden in shadows of the Chasinds or the villagefolks, she for the first time was a part of a minor group, fighting for a common goal. She was not very fond of most of the people in the group – that she gladly admitted – but nevertheless, it was a group in which she apparently belonged.    

Morrigan heard Solona’s quiet mutterings accompany the whispering leaves. The warden hadn’t been happy when Elissa had announced that neither Wynne, Alistair nor Leliana were to accompany them to the fearful werewolves. Alistair hadn’t either, Morrigan recalled with a smirk. An icy glare from Elissa had silenced his childish protests.

Elissa had motivated her decision by saying that Wynne was more needed at the Dalish’s infirmary, and that Alistair and Leliana were to stay behind and assist the older healer. Morrigan knew that wasn’t entirely true.

Elissa – evidently an _extremely_ bad liar after performing her miserably scheme back at Redcliffe - hid something from Solona.

“You are more powerful than you think”, Morrigan mused to Solona after a while. “You only fight with the most basic of spells, when you can make the earth shiver with fear”.

Solona narrowed her brows at the apostate’s words. “You know we are short on lyrium. I don’t want to drain my mana”.

Morrigan rolled with her eyes. “Then how are you to develop your powers?”

“I don’t have to”, Solona said evenly. “One time they had to repair the floor and walls in the Circle after one of my spells. After that, I have been taught not to use more energy than I need”.

“Boring”, Morrigan stated. Solona chewed on her inner cheek for a while.

“Yes”, she finally admitted. “It is”.

 

What Morrigan didn’t know was that Solona detested lyrium. Though Solona used it when needed, she saw it as a poison. Even the sugary, synthetic taste made her insides retch, and the song that boomed through her mind and soul after just one tiny drop hummed the grimmest of melodies; the one that sang to her of betrayed love.

While most of the Templars at Kinloch were decent people, not all of them were, and while Solona had managed to get protection by Cullen, Lily was one of those who hadn’t.

Lily had been abused and if it weren’t for Irving forcing Greagoir to deal with the horrid templar, who’d know what would happened? Solona had only heard about other Circles. She shivered at the memories carrying the rumors that had etched themselves into her skull. Greagoir was not a bad man, despite wanting to invoke the Right of Annulment back at the tower. He was just shaped by his own beliefs – as were most men. Solona guessed that many of the other towers over Thedas had Knight-Commanders with beliefs shaped by pure fear and hate for mages.

Solona still carried love for Cullen, even if not comparable to the one she now held for Alistair. Was it possible to love two men at once? She bit her tongue as she remembered Cullen’s face that day months ago. The day he would forever change in her eyes.

She would never forget his face the day she stepped into the room where her Harrowing was to take place.

The Harrowing. Many of the apprentices that entered the room never stepped out as full mages – well, stepped out at all, really. Like Lily, who loved life and filled every room she entered with a flower-scented air; and just like Lily many of the apprentices disappeared, like the breath’s mist a frosty day.

Yes, Solona remembered her Harrowing very well – too well. Cullen had been prepared to fulfill his duty, despite trembling hands and quivering breaths. He had been prepared to kill her.

How could she not blame lyrium? It was much easier than to accept the truth; that the man she loved, and that the man who claimed to love her, was willing to put a sword through her chest if she had failed; if she had trusted Mouse.

No wonder she detested the small rodents.

It was better to love a man who adored cheese even more than the Mouse that could have led to that her blood was smeared on Cullen’s sharp sword.

Lyrium. It was lyrium that made it possible for Cullen to stand by Greagoir’s side with fingers brushing the hilt. Lyrium that made it possible for Greagoir to turn her friends into tranquils. Lyrium that made it possible for Greagoir and his followers to invoke the Right, annihilating an entire Circle - including the children.

Lyrium that made it possible for Cullen to want the very same.

 

*

 

Zevran had a good hearing and eyesight, the latter even if it was dark. It was both a blessing and a curse, that the humanoid race that was looked down upon by humans had superior senses.

He thought of it mostly as a curse. When he was younger, he trusted those senses, he even relied on them. His younger self was a fool, he thought, for trusting them too much. It was first when he did the foulest of deeds – believing that the heart was a traitorous organ – he came to understand that his good hearing and good eyesight could not explore the minds of others. It was first then he came to be one of the best assassins the House of Crows had to offer a buyer with a heavy pouch.

He glanced at the leather gloves Mithra wore. It reminded him of those he once had, inherited to him after his mother's passing. He had thought about his mother's gloves so many times by now, that the realization that they were taken from him no longer mattered – he had come to terms with it.

He only wished he had given them to Rinna. Sweet, beautiful Rinna, the first person to ever stole his heart. No, Zevran realized. It was not his only wish.

The other wish was that he had not looked into her sorrowful eyes when he killed her.

Then, he decided to add a third wish; that he had not killed her at all. His jaw tensed. What did it say about him, that not killing Rinnala was not his first wish? Was he really that ruined, a product by his upbringing - or was it normal? He turned his gaze to Elissa's back, and he wondered in which order she would have put his wishes?

He shook his head slightly. The one thing he knew was that regarding these three things, it did not matter how many times he thought about them.

He would never fully come to terms with that he killed the woman he loved.


	39. Chapter 39

 Alistair paced back and forth. The grass was rigid from frost and it crunched beneath his boots, and the warming morning sun was still hidden behind the canopies. The chattering sounds from the awakening camp only made him more nervous.

_Why are they not back? Two days have passed by. If something has happened to Solona…_

He let out a groan and fell down onto the chilly ground, staring at the small brook in front of him. The water sang happy tunes of finally being free from the cold grasp of winter.

He should have come with. A part of him detested Elissa for being so protective of him. Even if he became King, his life was not worth more than anyone else’s.

A thought nagged him. _It is not true. This country depends on you. You are irreplaceable._

“Ugh!”, he splurted, kicking the ground with his foot. He felt frustrated like a child.

 Where are they?

He knew Elissa wanted him to decide if he was to take the throne or not. He also knew that Elissa thought he did not really have a decision. He huffed. He would never betray Solona, and he would never take the Crown if it meant losing her.

Neither Elissa nor Eamon would be able to corrupt him, to transform him into a snake and throw him into the snake pit. He would never abandon his morals for a country that was to love and praise him for nothing more than his last name.

“What are you doing?”, Leliana’s soft voice dragged him out from his thoughts.

He furrowed his brows as he stood up, brushing his pants. The cold ground had made his buttocks go numb, and he grimaced at the odd sensation.

“They are not back yet”, he complained as the former bard closed in on him. Alistar would never understand how the frosty grass and twigs under her feet didn’t reveal her approach. Maybe Solona – when she had improved, that say – could teach him some of the tricks Leliana had in her sleeve.

 Leliana sighed. “I know”. She had hoped to wake up with Elissa curled up next to her, but alas, her bedroll was devoid of her lover’s warmth. “Wynne believed their quest would take some time. The injuries the poor elves suffer from…”. Leliana shook her head. She had not yet drawn kohl around her eyes, and her hair was still tousled from sleep. The pillow marks on her cheek revealed that she indeed just had gotten up from bed. “The werewolves are clearly very intelligent, and has thereto a cruelty rarely seen”. A cruelty that reminded her of her torturers. The mercy of a quick death was not to be underestimated.

“Wow, Lana”, Alistair said with a glare. “That was calming news”.

“Hmph”. Leliana tilted her head as she studied the Warden in front of her. His facial expression unveiled that there were more to the worry than Solona being away that disturbed him. “Elissa has told me”, she said simply after a few moments. “I know of your hardships, Alistair. I so wish there was something I could do to help you”.

“Oh? Oh. Of course she did”, Alistair snorted. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, trying not to take out his irritation on his friend. “ _I_ am not allowed to tell anyone. _I_ am not allowed to do anything. Yet _she_ does it herself. It is… Is is not fair!”.

“I think Elissa will understand if you tell Solona”, Leliana said with a deep sigh. She paused and combed out one of many knots in her hair with her fingers, before she let her hands fall down her sides. With narrowed brows she sought his eyes anew. “She doesn’t want to hurt you. She just wants –“

“’-- the best for Ferelden’”, Alistar interrupted bitterly. “Oh, that sounds like the Eamon that sent me away, not the man who now pretends he is glad to see me. I hear he has succeeded in manipulating her as well”. He rubbed his stubby cheek with one of his hands. “I didn’t mean it. I know he cares for me, in his own way. Elissa too”. Alistair shook his head, exasperated. “The worst thing is that I know they are right. But what is right for everyone else, is not right for _me_. I want to be with Solona. I want to… I want to be a Warden. I want to honor Duncan’s memory”. He sighed and stared at the brownish leaves at his feet. They had not yet decayed, protected by winter. He wished that the now passed winter would have protected him from time passing, but no, instead it pushed him closer to the future he did not want.

“You know what I think?”, Leliana asked and carefully put a hand on his arm. “I do think you should tell Solona. See what she has to say about it. Maybe… Maybe she will surprise you?”

Alistair hummed and discreetly dried away a few tears from beneath his eyes. “But how? I do not want to lose her”.

Leliana’s lips curled slightly by a pale smile. “Pretend I am Solona. Try on me.”

“I can’t”, Alistair protested. “It is not the same”.

“I know it isn’t, but try. Come on”.

Alistair’s lips thinned to a line, but he scanned the forest floor. By the stream, he picked a hardy flower that yet hadn’t bloomed.

“This feels incredibly stupid”, Alistair admitted with a shy smile.

“It isn’t. Believe me”, she encouraged him. “And even if it was, there is no one here but me”.

“Well…”. Alistair proffered her the picked flower whose bud held a sad posture; it would now never bloom. Leliana accepted it, trying to suppress a smile.

“That was a start. But try to give her something that doesn’t look as… lamentable”.

“I already know what I shall give her”, he told her proudly. “In Lothering I picked the rose you said had something to do with your… eh, vision”.

“It _was_ a vision”.

“Yes, yes. However I picked it and pressed it in my journal. I was going to give it to her anyway.”

“A pressed, dried rose?”. Leliana didn’t look too convinced. “You don’t think it sounds a tiny bit lamentable?”

“Nope, not at all”.

“It is your choice”. Leliana shrugged as she scratched her nose and stiffened. Her fingers had caught the smell from the flower she held. “Alistair?”

“Mmh?”

“What kind of flower is this?”

Alistair gave the plant a quick glance. “Andraste’s Grace. It grows all over Ferelden, so long it is close to water. We actually used it to cure mabaris if they were tainted. Most of them seem to be tolerant of the Blight, but if –“

Leliana waved a hand to silence him. Her eyes glistered. “My mother smelled exactly like this”.  

“She did?”, Alistair wondered. Leliana had earlier told him that she didn’t remember much of her. Alistair believed he understood the feeling, not having a mother himself. Soon his face exploded into a big smile. “I think I saw a perfume shop in Denerim! We can go there next time, and get you a flask”.

“I would absolutely love to”, Leliana nodded. “And maybe we can get you something as well”.

“Is this your way of saying that I smell?”

“Well… only if it is obvious?”

Alistair clucked and Leliana shook her head, smiling. “Now,” she said almost sternly after a while, “pretend that I am Solona”.

 “Well”. He rubbed his neck. A faint blush had crept onto it. “Solona, I need to tell you something. I –“

Screams and high voices from the camp caught their both attentions. Leliana carelessly threw the Andraste’s Grace to the ground and they both began to run to the center of the chaos, prepared to either join or stop a fight with their bare hands.

Alistar and Leliana could hardly believe what they saw when they had pressed their way through the newly formed throng of Dalish elves.

Now Alistair at least knew where Solona was.  


	40. Chapter 40

In Ferelden winter was not only a season; it was a state of mind. The color of winter was not white, but grey, as most winter skies.

As most things, Elissa had come to realize.

For about one year ago, she had celebrated Wintersend with her family. This year, the holiday had passed her and her companions by while they were struggling to find the Dalish camp, shadowed by their heavy burdens. Forgotten. Not even Leliana seemed to remember to celebrate the holiday in the name of the Maker. Such things, out here, did not seem to matter.

Back then, she lived the role of the family’s black sheep quite well. Lady Landra, Dairren and – of course – Iona had spent most of the holidays at Castle Cousland. Landra preferred to leave the capital in the time of celebrations, because the probably now deceased noblewoman fancied the more rural and often somewhat calmer festivities. Elissa had lost the local tournament against her brother, to Oren’s delight. He was immensely proud of his father.

Elissa knew exactly what it felt like. She had felt that same kind of pride as well, when she as a young girl had seen Bryce come third in the grand tournament in Denerim. And just because she had felt it herself, she had been able to put aside the bad losing side she usually had (that is why she so often cheated while playing cards) and was glad for her brother’s sake. He had won, fair and square. And now he – the better warrior of the two – was dead.

Wintersend had back then many colors; green as the coniferous trees, red as meat and yellow as the sun that finally began to wake up the slumbering fields of ryott.

Green as the dress Iona then wore, red as the cheeks the liquor and chilly air had brought to her and yellow as her hair, when it danced in the morn’s light.

Now everything was grey. Wintersend had passed and waved the coldness farewell, but the sky was still grey. The morning sun shone on Elissa’s of ire flustered cheeks, but she could not see it. She only saw the foreboding clouds.

She still was oblivious to most of the Dalish elves’ manners and traditions, but by studying the terrified and furious faces that watched her, Elissa knew that grabbing their clan’s Keeper by the collar was not an act that was well received.

Sten stood next to her, prepared to intervene on her behalf. Elissa was glad she fetched the large man, because if not, she and her friends would be wandering the meadows by the Maker by now. Solona struggled to remain standing. Her mana was still drained after the many fights they had had, and the large gash on her thigh bled through its bandage. Morrigan, still in the shape of one of the Hinterland’s many bears, wanted nothing more than to retreat to a den so she could lick her many wounds in peace.

Next to the mages stood Zevran and Mithra. The assassin supported the Dalish huntress. The latter elf’s face was blanched, and the sweat that ran down her temples acted as a substitute for the tears of betrayal she refused to shed for the man she recently had trusted more than the Creators themselves.

The Grand Oak had accused humans of bringing chaos to the world. Elissa could agree with the talking tree – as much one now could agree with talking trees, as Zevran had put it – but as she stared into Zathrian’s knowing eyes she could not believe humans alone were to blame.

The color of the heart, no matter the race, was grey.

Grey as the Order she unwillingly had pledged her life to. Grey as the morality she once had detested in Duncan, but now adopted herself.

Grey as the sea, seen from Highever’s tower. Grey as the eyes of the dragon that had surprised them while they hurried to get back from the werewolves.

And grey as the hair that belonged to the wise healer that now raised her voice.

“Stop this nonsense immediately!”, Wynne demanded as she stepped out from the crowd, not minding the many arrows that were trained at her. “What in the Maker’s name is happening?”

Elissa could only see grey. Anger no longer burned in her eyes, and fury no longer blackened her vision. The only black she now remembered, was the fur on the men Zathrian himself had cursed.

Zathrian was the reason so many of his own brothers and sisters died. He had cursed the humans to become werewolves. It was a crime that broke Mithra’s heart.

Therefore Mithra was the one who chose to speak. She also knew that her clan would not listen to Elissa. At least not now, while the Warden-Commander yanked their almost sacred Keeper by his collar, as if he was a disobedient mabari. The elf swallowed before she finally raised her voice.

“Keeper Zathrian is the one responsible for the werewolves”, she began. Her voice quivered slightly, as the sight of her clansmen pointing arrows at her was an earlier unbelievable sight that brought her deep shame. While she had a hard time to control her voice, she made sure that her leather bound feet stood steadily on the ground as she leaned away from Zevran’s supporting shoulder. The flat-ear had, despite his lecherous comments, not acted in any inappropriate way. Mithra was grateful for him. She would be dead if he had not saved her from the sylvan that she had carelessly walked into, despite knowing the forest was full of possessed flora. “I can of this not bring you any evidence, but you know I never would betray you - my family, my _clan_ ”.

Keeper Marethari stood silent as she calculated the sight before her. She did not know the huntress well, but the woman’s honest expression made her confident that the huntress spoke the truth.

“We need to bring our Keeper back into the forest. We need to set everything straight. The men who are trapped inside the bodies of monsters have a solution to our problem. With the help from Zathrian, we together can heave the curse”. Mithra sought the kind eyes of Marethari, avoiding the ones from her clan. “I think”, she added quietly.  Marethari nodded slightly, showing Mithra that she listened. She knew that the huntress from the other clan was aware that Marethari had no say in this.

Lanaya stepped forward. If eyes could kill, Elissa would have been dead by now.

Elissa was for once glad that eyes were a relatively simple organ.

She let go of Zathrian’s shirt and took a step back. But instead of focusing on her, Lanaya laid her eyes on her mentor. After he had adjusted his position, Zathrian’s expression was entirely neutral, and it was a silent communication that played out between him and his apprentice. They had worked together for years by now, preparing Lanaya to take his place. They knew each other as well two separate souls could.

Elissa remembered what Lanaya had told her before she left for the werewolves. That Zathrian had taken pity on her while she was a girl and saved her. Their relationship reminded her much of the one Daryn had with Loghain.

Elissa could only hope that Lanaya was not as blindly loyal as her former lover.

After a long, quiet moment, Zathrian cleared his throat.

“ _Tel'abelas_ ”, he said to her. Even if he spoke silently, it was his gaze and nothing else that revealed that he was tired. Very tired. “You know why I did it, _lethallan._ And you know what happens now”.

Lanaya nodded slowly, her head hanging. She knew. She was probably the only one, except for the group that now had spoken to the Lady in the Forest, who knew of his deepest secrets.

“I do, _hahren. Na melana sahlin."_

 Zathrian turned his now stoic face to his clan members. Most of their expressions were perplexed, as they were not sure about what was going on.

“Lower your weapons, People. They speak the truth. Just as time dries the ground, truth will like rain come and lift seeds of the past up to the sun”. Zathrian paused and his eyes locked with Marethari’s. The woman tilted her head as she carefully listened to what he had to say. “As you well know, I have prepared Lanaya, my First, to take my place when my time has come. And now it finally has”. Darkness shadowed his eyes as he sighed heavily. “I shall follow them and bring peace back to the forest, and to all of you”.

He turned back to Lanaya and Mithra. “I might have done many wrongs in my past. But what their ancestors were, what they did to us, will not change. I admit that I turned them into beasts; but remember, that I turned them into the beasts they already were in their hearts”. He sent Elissa a quick glare. “Humans are not more than worthless dogs”. A beat, and Elissa scowled. “Most humans, at least”, he corrected himself. Zathrian’s gaze returned to Lanaya’s, and his eyes softened. She reminded him of the daughter he once had. The daughter who was raped and killed. “You know that”.

“I know of their hearts, _hahren._ I have not forgotten the place I come from. And not all of their hearts are inhabited by evil”. Lanaya sent Leliana a glance.

They had conversed much in the past evening. Leliana had been surprised to realize that many of her own viewpoints indeed were offensive, even though she had not thought it herself. In Orlais nobles treated most elves even worse than dogs.

And ever since the country had lost their occupation over Ferelden, dogs were treated horrendously.

Leliana had been embarrassed when she had blurted out that in Orlais, most thought elves were beautiful to look at. The scorned look on Lanaya’s face made the former bard wanting to sink down into the ground.

She realized the width of what she had said. Nobles surrounded themselves with the ‘lower race’ and watched them as statues – statues of low worth. In reality, elves were treated as property. One could do almost anything to them, as long as they got paid a copper.

Orlesians were not ‘Vints, after all. Even a raped elf deserved a coin. For Maker’s sake – Orlesians were not _slave owners_. At least that was what they persuaded themselves into thinking.

And this realization made Leliana ransack herself. She wanted to be good, and she figured that it was needed to regularly question one owns believes in order to be so.

 She had Lanaya to thank for that. And Lanaya, on the other hand, was glad to see Leliana question herself. It gave her hope.

Thanks to that, Lanaya now knew that the curiosity she still kept for the world she came from was not misplaced. Not all humans were monsters. Just as the Dalish were not better than anyone else. Not much, anyway.

 

Zathrian now turned his attention to Wynne, who stood and watched her companions with a line between her brows. Her gown was stained with blood from the injured elves she spent night and day caring for, and yet, she still had the energy to worry about her friends.

Wynne wondered if not a large portion of an old women’s energy was reserved for worrying.

“You may take care of your friends”, he told her. “I will need to speak to Lanaya before we leave for the… negotiations”. He turned to his clan. “And I might be wise to say my farewells to you all. When Lanaya has left my hut, you may come and talk to me, if it is your wish”.   

The crowd burst out in a confused murmur, but as Zathrian and Lanaya left for his hut, it soon disbanded. Marethari, Merrill, Alistair and Leliana were the only ones left when Wynne began to take care of the wounds Solona, Morrigan and Mithra had gotten.

Alistair was quickly by his lover’s side, and Marethari offered to help Wynne heal, as the latter had drained a lot of mana attending to the elves.

“It is alright, my dear child”, Wynne crooned to her former apprentice as she heated a bowl of water. “You will soon be healed, and your strength will return back to you”. Alistair’s heart panged in his chest as he saw the water quickly grew blood-stained.

“I am fine, my love”, Solona whispered to Alistair. For the first time ever, Frost warily watched Alistair. The hound was vigilant now when her mistress had been injured – she had not seen Solona harmed in such a way until now. The wrinkle between his brows deepened, as her words did not calm him. It was he who was supposed to comfort her, not the other way around. His pulse increased.

“You are not fine”, Alistair said hoarsely. He sent Elissa an angry look. “You should have let me come with! What happened out there? How could you let this happen?” he growled, gesticulating to the three wounded people.

If Solona had died… Alistair would never have forgiven himself.

“Do not blame her”, Solona whispered as she grimaced when Wynne cleaned her gash. Even though she had not approved that Elissa brought neither one of Solona’s closest with them, her Warden-Commander could not have known that a dragon lived in the lair they sought refuge. 

Alistair shook his head at Solona’s words, and while he stroked away some strands of hair from her clammy face, he continued to glare at Elissa.

Elissa hanged her head. She often found that it was easier to watch her feet instead of the eyes of someone she had hurt.

“I… I do not know where to begin”. She felt Leliana’s asking gaze. “I might as well give you the very short version. Demons, darkspawn and... a dragon”.

Leliana's hand flew up to cover her mouth as she gasped. She could not believe it. Had her love fought another dragon? Or even worse - had that dragon almost killed her best friend, Solona, and... well, whatever now Morrigan was to her?

Leliana earned a quick look from Elissa who took a deep breath before she added; “Ah, and the werewolves…”.

Morrigan, who had shapeshifted back to her human form, whimpered as Marethari and Merrill cleaned one of the deep lacerations on her back. Elissa hurriedly knelt by her friend’s side, trying to comfort her without pity. She could not believe she let them get wounded by a dragon, while she was free from injuries. 

They were her responsibility. She comforted herself with thinking that at least none of them were burned – something Solona and her arcane barriers had protected them from.

“The werewolves were hostile at first”, she explained while stroking Morrigan’s cold hand. Leliana silently fetched a blanket so the witch wouldn’t have to lie on the uncomfortable forest floor.  “But then a… I think it was a spirit… showed up and spoke to us of Zathrian’s crimes”.

“Blast and damnation, Cousland!”, Morrigan splurted irritated. “Stop… stroking… my… hand… repeatedly”, she continued hissing through clenched teeth. “It _stresses_ me”.

“Oh”, Elissa quickly let go of the apostate’s hand. She soon felt Leliana’s warm hand grasp her shoulder, and lightly squeeze it. Elissa wanted nothing else than to retreat to their shared tent. The look in her lover’s eyes told Elissa that Leliana wanted the very same. But instead of fleeing the scene, Elissa rose up and met Mithra’s gaze.

“It is maybe not my place to tell them of why or what he did”, Elissa said with an inclined head to the huntress.

“No. It’s not”, Mithra agreed with a broken voice, “but you may tell your… _friends_ some of it, anyway”. She cast Leliana a quick look.

The Dalish elves were few and while same sexed relationships were not unheard of, they were at the same time far from common. It was important for them to get children so that what left of their traditions could live on, and not fall into entirely into oblivion. Even though Mithra appreciated that the two women – as well as Alistair and Solona - was trying to be discreet about their relationships, she could not deny it was odd to see the lovers be so open about their liaison.

When one lived as the Dalish did, one often wanted to keep their romantic relationship private. Maybe not secret, but private. Mithra, who had come to know that the group in front of her traveled together, first thought they felt the same. Mithra had learnt that when one lived in a nomadic, close group the thing called privacy was almost unheard of, and one did everything one could to have at least something for oneself.  

But at the same time, a part of Mithra was envious when she saw them openly being intimate with each other. Her friend Gheyna was to bond with Cammen, despite he was not yet a full-fledged hunter. No one had yet showed any interest in her.

She sent Marethari an oblique glance. A part of her hoped that when her clan had come to stay with them, one of her hunters would want to bond with her.

Mithra had not yet had any luck.  She felt Zevran’s eyes on her, and she suppressed – Mithra did not know. Was it a coy smile or an uncomfortable grimace? Her cheeks heated, but as Elissa began telling some of what had happened, she instead grew cold.

How could Zathrian – their Keeper, for Creators' sake! - be responsible for so many of her friends’ death?

  
“Zathrian’s daughter was raped and killed by a human”, Elissa said. “And his revenge was to send the man who did it into eternal suffering”. Elissa sighed. _That_ she could understand – she wished deeply she could do that herself to Rendon Howe. Alas, without magic, the suffering she had in mind for him would end in his death way too soon to be called ‘eternal’. “The problem was that the type of eternal suffering he chose – lycanthropy – is contagious. And… Well. The rest you can figure out by yourselves”.

Sten grunted. He was reluctant to the use of magic – and this proved that he, or rather the Qun, was right to have taken that stance. The s _aarebas_ was highly monitored in his lands. He understood why Wynne wanted to keep the Circles, whereas he never would understand how Morrigan – and nowadays Solona – opposed the idea.

There were many things about these people he would never understand. It would be hard for him to report all of this back to his superior; that he knew.

He cast the horses that were tied to a tree a look, and was content with that they had calmed down. They – prey animals, had been deeply horrified by both seeing and smelling the now dead _Ataashi._ And, even if Sten thought it was a shame to kill such a wonderful creature, a part of him enjoyed the feeling of putting his _Asala_ between its ribs.

“How are you feeling, my dear Mithra?”, Zevran wondered. For once, his voice held nothing but genuine concern. Merrill had just finished healing her, and returned to Marethari’s side. Her ear was twitching nervously. The First of the Keeper did find it a bit uncomfortable to be around a group of people she did not know well.

 “I have no words”, the huntress admitted. Dark circles hardened her sorrowful eyes. “I am… tired. Exhausted even”, she murmured. Although what she said was true, a quick smile tugged her lips. “I can’t believe I killed a dragon”.

Zevran grinned. Of course, he remembered that he once almost had died from a dragon – but the delight that highlighted her voice as she said it, he could understand. To be successful in killing a dragon was a massive ego boost. Not that Zevran actually _needed_ any ego boosts, but still. That he almost died? Not more than a mere detail, in the big picture.

“You are certainly a magnificent hunter”, he complimented as he offered her an arm. When she raised a questioning brow, he shrugged. “When all of… erhm, _this_ , is taken care of, I think we should arrange a bow contest”.

“What was the arm for?”, Mithra wondered curiously when he did not explain.

“It was meant for you”, he smiled. He felt like quite the gentleman, really. But, again, when was he not? “You were supposed to take it so that I could follow you back to your accommodation”.

Zevran proffered her his arm once more and after a minute of hesitation, she made sure her quiver and bow were in the right place, before she awkwardly took it.

“ _Ma serannas_ ", she said as he showed her how to hold it. Mithra was astonished that the act of holding an arm was so advanced. "We should have a shooting contest”, she mused as they walked towards her tent. “But if so, you should help me make some more arrows”.

“I would love to”, Zevran said and continued in a conspiratorial whisper; “and remember that it is Leliana, the redhead, you should be afraid of”.

“Bah. I just killed a dragon!”

Zevran let his head fell backward as he snickered. “So has she, Mithra of the Atish'an clan, so has she”.


	41. Chapter 41

Mithra leaned against the fence that surrounded the halla enclosure, looking mindlessly at the beautiful creatures that roamed inside. It was hard for her to believe all that had transpired in the last days.

Her throat parched at the thought. Zathrian was dead, and now, Lanaya had stepped up as their new Keeper. Zathrian’s body had not been recovered, and his body would never decay in a grave. He deserved more.

She tried to comfort herself with the last sickly clan members were recovering from their wounds that no longer threatened to turn them into werewolves, but alas, it was tough. The elven huntress knew it would take time for her to adjust to having a new Keeper, no matter how prepared and intelligent Lanaya was.

Mithra turned her head and gazed at the backs of the group of misfits that had come to their aid. They sat around a warming fire, eating nuts and dried fruit while discussing with Keeper Lanaya and Keeper Marethari. The latter had announced that she and her clan in the morrow were to continue traveling to Gwaren, and then up North. A few hunters from the Sabrae clan had offered their help against the Blight, and since Lanaya more than gladly accepted the treaty, Marethari had agreed to let them stay with the Atish'an clan until the Blight was dealt with.

Lanaya planned for them to travel north to the lands around Denerim. Commander Elissa was certain that it was there the final battle was to take place. Mithra shivered at the thought. She did not see why Lanaya was interested in the degrading race called humans.

Her eyes locked on the flat-ear’s back. His shoulder-long, blond hair shone almost red in the firelight. While she wanted to spit at his feet for no other reason than thinning the line of ancient elven heritage, she no longer could. Zevran had proven her wrong.

Mithra had over the years heard many tales of the filthy alienages, but she could not picture him there. Before the shooting contest, they had spoken much while he helped her manufacture more arrows. Mithra had been surprised to see how well he was at it. He had only shrugged his shoulders and said that he had observed Leliana do so.

Mithra smiled as she thought about the contest. Leliana’s hands had trembled with nervosity because she was being watched by Dalish hunters, who were famed for their ability to handle the bow. Zevran had actually worn a surprised expression when Leliana missed her goal.

“She _never_ misses”, he had breathed. When even Elissa managed to hit the target, he had laughed; “Poor Leliana. Her pride will be scorned for some time. She must be nervous”.

In the end, the Atish'an clan had lost in favor of the Sabrae clan, but for Mithra it did not really matter. She had excelled, and the appreciating glister in Zevran’s eyes was the only recognition she wanted.

She turned her head and returned to watch the hallas graze. She felt as if she was a child again. When her parents had passed away from disease, she had wanted nothing more than the attention of her guardian. It took a long time for her to accept that love, or even caring, was something not to take for granted.

The day she had gained her guardian’s full attention was the day she became a fully-fledged huntress.

But then it was too late. She no longer cared.

 

Her pointy ears twitched as she heard the sound of approaching footfalls against moss.

“Good evening, dear Mithra”, she heard Zevran greet in the thick, odd accent of his. She had never heard anyone speak like that. “Am I disturbing you in your reverie?”

“ _Aneth ara_ ”, she responded with a suppressed smile. “No, you’re not”. She wrung her gloved hands, and he raised a questioning brow, looking pointedly at her hands. She merely shook her head in response. She did not wish to tell him what was on her mind.

Zevran understood that more than Mithra could imagine.

“My late mother had gloves like yours”, he instead told her. He neared her and then he, too, leaned languidly against the wooden fence. He nodded in the direction of her gloves. “It was the first thing I noticed about you”.

“Oh?”, Mithra wondered dryly. “And not the arrow I had in your face?”

He smiled innocently as he followed the halla’s movements with his eyes. “If we are to become detailed, then the third thing”. A beat, and the only thing that could be heard was Elora tending to one of the sickly hallas.

“The second was your body”. He glanced at her as she frowned at what he had said. “I will never understand why you Dalish insists on wearing gloves of the finest quality but not proper shoes. How do you stand it? Is it not cold?” He lifted his own booted foot and knocked on it. “This is Antivan leather. They are in quite a bad shape, I fear, but still better than those rags you wear”.

Mithra shrugged her shoulders. “I have never given it any thought”, she admitted. "I guess I am used to it”. She wiggled her free toes. No. They were not particularly cold. “What were you saying about your mother's gloves?”

“She was Dalish, but left her clan and landed in the city. I was but a boy when she passed away, and the gloves were all she left me”. Mithra’s brows narrowed as she listened to what he had to say. “They were stolen from me”, he simply concluded his story. Despite what Zevran had persuaded himself into thinking, Mithra saw his agitation as he raked his hair with his hand.

“Zev!”, Elissa called from the fire. “Wynne says that Solona and Morrigan should be fit for traveling now. We are leaving tomorrow morning”.

Zevran waved to her, showing her that he had heard what was said. The two elves stood in silence.

“They are wonderful creatures”, Zevran said after a while. The halla had approached him, and he offered the animal a bunch of grass. “I am glad to have met you, Mithra. You have, to my surprise, made my stay here enjoyable”. He backed away from the fence and brushed his palms against each other. The grass had colored them.

“I will be out hunting in the morning”, Mithra told him somberly with a slightly hanging head. She would probably not be there to tell him farewell. She hated to admit it, but the thought of him leaving made her disappointed. “You…”, she paused and swiftly pulled off the gloves from her hands. “Take them”, she said as she pushed them into his hands. “They are not your mother’s, but…”. Mithra bit her tongue. What was going on with her? She did not act as the proud Dalish hunter she was. A part of her was glad Zathrian was no longer here to see it.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, I have several more of them”.

“… Thank you”, he then said softly. Zevran stroked the soft fur on the gloves. He had to stern himself so his hand would not tremble. “I will cherish them until the day I die”, he promised. A lop-sided grin curled his lips. “And if someone tries to steal them, they certainly will”.  He grabbed Mithra’s right hand and kissed the back of it. Mithra furrowed her brows at the odd act, but did not withdraw her hand away from his lips. He tilted his head so he met her gaze. “Will I see you in Denerim, when the time comes?”

“You will”. It was not like she had a choice. With the reenactment of the treaty, all individuals able to fight had to take up arms against the plagued creatures that threatened to doom the world.

But now, she found that she wanted to. She wanted him to look at her with the glistering appreciation once more.

“Then I hope I will meet you there, Mithra of the Atish'an clan”

“And I you, Zevran…”. She tilted her head, a silent question of what she was to call him.

“Arainai”, he said, flashing a wide smile. Mithra felt that a mirroring smile tugged her lips as she corrected herself.  

“Zevran Arainai”.

Zevran bowed slightly and pressed the gifted gloves against his chest. As he walked back to his tent to prepare for his departure, Mithra whispered to herself;

“ _Dareth shiral, lethallin_ ”.


	42. Chapter 42

Elissa let out an ‘ _oof’_ as she fell down on the bedroll next to Leliana. Gently, she let her fingers trace the curvature of Leliana’s jaw.

“Mmh”, Leliana cooed pleasantly, “how I have missed being alone with you, _mon Coeur_ ”. Leliana tittered as she curled up in Elissa’s safe arms. Her often rigid muscles had turned relaxed and her heavy heart light during their lovemaking. Elissa pulled her closer and smiled as their clammy bodies sucked onto each others, as if their skin still wanted them to be one.

The tent they were in sheltered them from the gentle but cool winds that hovered outside their own, sacred place in the world Elissa thought of as their paradise. In there, no troubles existed. No evil, no darkness.

Only _them_.

Elissa nuzzled her lover's flaming hair. They both were happily unaware of the future the Maker held for them.

As the Night of the Blight grew closer, they would soon learn that all earthly paradises fall.

The Maker did not like competition.

 

*

 

 _Reptilian eyes scanned the shadowed areas surrounding it through its' nictitating membranes. It could sense that It no longer was alone._ She _had entered Its realm. She, an imposter and a fraud. She did not belong there with them._

_But if she could see them, they could see her._

_Its slumber had ended and It craved resurrection._

_“Where are you?”, It hissed in a since ages forgotten language. Its voice was metallic, and its sharpness could draw blood as its echoes hit the hard stones, accompanied by thousands and thousands of dark whispers._

_It was their king, their God. They whispered to It, begged It; ‘Feed us, Save us, Lead us’._

_It wanted to fulfill their prayers. Its leathery skin creaked and cracked of dryness and old age as It sought for her._

_“Have you found me yet?”, It wondered; the metallic voice vibrated at the question, as if it was a blade beaten on by a blacksmith._

_Then all became silent; it was a silence that tasted like copper._

_Elissa swallowed hard. The metallic taste spread from her tongue, down to her gut and from there out to her limbs and they grew heavy. She grew heavy. And tired. Very tired._

_Soon the winged reptilian God laughed; a wheezing sound that made Elissa’s hairs prickle._

_“ **No** ”, Its voice boomed through the room of stone they both were prisoners of. “You have not. I almost wonder if you have forgotten me?”_

_Elissa covered her ears with her hands, clenching her eyes shut._

_She did not want to hear. She did not want to see. She did not want to taste. She did not want to feel._

_A droplet fell on her closed eyelid. Then another. Soon it rained cold droplets that steamed and hissed on her living tissue. She opened her eyes and screamed._

_She had tasted her own blood. She was doomed, and no longer unafraid._

_She had found love and wanted to live. And It only laughed at her, because It knew._

_It knew and It did not care._

_The God of Beauty would have no problem with killing the unworthy creature in front of it._

_The laugh faded into silence._

_Silence._

_Heavy silence; then a fast, quiet whisper._

_“ **I have found you** ”.  _

 

Elissa’s shirt was put on backward as she hurried out into the chilly night. Her head hammered in symphony with the pulsating taint in her veins as it alarmed her of approaching danger. Her knuckles grew white from the desperate grip her hand held around the sword’s haft.

Zevran had jumped up from the log he had sat upon when she had rushed out from her tent, and he looked at her with a tilted head. Sten had not moved from his position by the unruly fire, and he nurtured the flames with another piece of wood.

“What is wrong, my lady warden?”, he asked. He had not heard anything – or anyone - lurking in the shadows of the night.

Elissa did not answer, but skimmed among the trunks and fields. No sign of darkspawn. She fell down on her knees and took a deep breath. The taint no longer screamed at her, and the adrenaline subsided.

It had been nothing but a nightmare.

Ashamed but mighty relieved, she rose up from her kneeling position and dragged herself to the logs around the fireplace.

“Nothing”, she answered the elf with a worn voice. “Nothing is wrong”. A heavy sigh. “The mare must have sat on my chest tonight, and dragged me into her realm of ghasts, ghouls and ‘spawn”.

A rustling sound from Elissa’s tent caught her vigilant attention. Leliana peeked out from the tent flap.

“Oh, _there_ you are!”, she exclaimed worriedly and disappeared back into the tent. Soon she came out, dressed in a nightgown with a quilt around her shoulders. Dark circles hardened her soft eyes as she joined the three by the fire. “I’m sorry, _mon amour_. I woke up first when you left the tent”.

Leliana’s shoulders drooped as if she had failed. Elissa shook her head, and her lips curled slightly.

“Please, don’t apologize”, Elissa said softly. “You are not my guard dog. I can manage on my own, Leli”.

Leliana’s blue eyes met her green and Elissa quickly turned away her gaze. Her cheeks burned from shame. They both knew she lied.

She could not manage on her own. It was evident in her past deeds.

Elissa grasped Leliana’s hand. “Go back to bed, I’ll come soon”.

When Leliana hesitated, Zevran nodded. “I will keep an eye on her, _señorita_ ”, he reassured her.

Leliana mirrored his nod and after letting the top of her fingers brush Elissa’s masked cheek, she drowsily walked back to her tent.

Zevran studied Elissa’s worried features. Her Silverite mask glimmered red in the light of the fire. When Elissa only stared into the fire, Zevran picked up his piece of coal and returned drawing in his journal.

“What are you doing?”, Elissa wondered with a raised brow. “Are you… No? Zev, are you _drawing_?”.

“Do I? Oh, yes, so it seems”, Zevran responded with a smug smile. He knew it would gain her interest.

Elissa leaned over and looked at it. She smiled, almost proudly, as she immediately recognized who the model was.

“Mithra?”

The elven woman he drew had her hair up in a tight ponytail, and her face was covered in a _vallaslin_. Even in this early state, Zevran thought, it was impossible not to recognize who it was. Mithra radiated the calm patience only a dedicated hunter could have, and the Dalish pride that kept her back straight were more prominent than even the noble one Elissa often had.

“Yees… Mithra”. He tasted her name. The huntress body was not the regular picture of femininity, but rather of felinity; even though her hips did not sway as Morrigan’s when she was in her predatory mood or she did not sneak around as Leliana often did.

All of her movements were precise and graceful. She did not enter a role, as the fiery-haired bard. Mithra was born with it, or at least, it had come to her naturally from all years living in the forest. She had become one with the terrestrial elements.

It was a shame she was Dalish. By blood, she was forced to detest what Zevran called civilization, and Zevran himself, could not wait until they were back in a city. By sheer free will he detested the thought of living among roaring tree trunks and branches for too long.

Zevran froze. A relationship? His gut twisted when he thought of how his last one had ended. _Rinnala_ …

But on the other hand,  Mithra was not someone he would simply bed. His grip around the bit of coal strengthened. Only time could tell, what the future had in hold. He thought about the gloves the huntress had given him.

 _Only because she showed me an act of kindness_ , Zevran had to tell himself, _does not mean she is interested in me._

“I have some of you and your Leliana of Orlais”. He intentionally sing-sang the latter’s name. Zevran showed Elissa the drawing he had made of them.

“Could I have one?”, Elissa asked in reverence.

“You could have them all, dear warden”.

She browsed through the journal and picked one of Leliana, where she played the lute by a fire. With a small nod Zevran carefully tore out the page and gave it to her.

“Thank you, my friend”, Elissa smiled and carefully held the paper. She studied it in silence. Leliana looked… simply happy. Elissa felt her vision go blurry.

Leliana deserved happiness. “When we get to Denerim, I will make sure to frame it”, Elissa then said and slowly folded the paper. She made sure not to smudge the coal when she put it in her pocket. “The Sten, have you seen these? He even made one of you!”

Sten grunted. “I have, and even though I admire his talent, I do not want to keep a picture of myself”.

Elissa browsed through the journal some more. She stopped by a picture that showed all of them.

“Is that…?”, she wondered. Her voice cracked and Zevran heard a quiet sniffle.

He cleared his thickened throat before he spoke. “ _Si._ It is”.

She had pointed at Truce, who in the picture lay beside Frost in front of the rest of the group. Morrigan stood beside Elissa and sneered at Leliana who loured right back at the witch, while Wynne and Solona in the background picked a bunch of medical herbs. Sten stood by the horses and Alistair ogled Solona from afar. Through slowly falling tears Elissa snickered quietly at the picture.

“If you insert yourself in the drawing”, Elissa, at last, said soberly, “then I would want this one as well. You belong here, Zevran. You have proven yourself. And… if you one day want to leave, you may. I won’t hold it against you”. She did not tear away her eyes from the kaddish painted Truce. “You will always be my friend. I have forgiven you”.

“… I know”. He stared at a twig by his feet, and after a moment, he picked it up and threw it into the fire. The twig twisted and turned before it finally gave up and let itself be transformed into ashes. He then gave an indicatory look where her little finger should be. “It is just that I have made the same mistake twice”. He closed his eyes and thought about Rinna. “I am not sure how I am to forgive myself”.

“You will. I will be there by your side and help you in doing so”.

Zevran shook his head while a lop-sided smile decorated his face. “It doesn’t matter what I am to say, eh? You are stubborn”.

“I am”, Elissa agreed. She stood up and pointed at the journal. “Now draw yourself into there, so I can frame that one as well. I would _love_ to fall asleep with you next to me”.

“Oh, my lady warden. I never believed I would hear such pretty words come out of your mouth!”

“Don’t get used to it”, she snickered as she went back into her tent. When she lay in the bedroll next to the dazing Leliana, she carefully put the drawing of her lover into her pack.

She slept through the remainder of the night without more nightmares.  


	43. Chapter 43

Wynne sent Morrigan a glance to reassure herself that the latter was not to fall off her horse. The apostate looked pale and exhausted, even though Wynne knew that Morrigan did her best to hide it. To be fair, Wynne had to admit that several of her companions had a slightly sickly pallor to their faces. Only Sten, Elissa, Alistair and maybe the always light-hearted Zevran seemed to let their horses trot on without so much of a frown.

One could believe the rest of them would have gotten used to sitting in the saddle for hours by now, but alas, they had not. Their muscles ached and Wynne had to strain herself from letting her aching joints contort her face. She was old, yes, but did not want to be cuddled with… or left behind, for that matter.

This was her purpose. To be here, with them, was her last contribution to the earthly world she for years had served.

Wynne suppressed a small sigh when she could almost hear Solona’s growling stomach over the beats of hooves. Their food reserves consisted mostly of nuts, cheese and dried fruits, all of it provided to them by the Dalish elves. It was a generous gift; Wynne meant no disrespect, but it was certainly not a diet they were accustomed to. Luckily, Alistair had convinced Elissa to buy some dried meat from a farmer they passed a couple of days earlier. Wynne thought it had been a good idea.

Even she had quickly grown tired of the meals they’d had.

“How are you feeling, Morrigan?”, Wynne asked as Morrigan began muttering to herself. Both Morrigan’s and Solona’s wounds had healed quickly, fueled by her and Marethari’s healing spells as well as the sorceresses’ own mana. 

Morrigan snorted at the question. “If ‘tis possible to get sick from riding horseback…”. She held the reins tightly, and doubted she ever would get used to this means of transportation. Morrigan firmly believed her horse felt the same way about her, since it tossed and turned its head every time she opened her mouth. But Elissa had told her that she missed out on much by isolating herself, and somehow Morrigan had happened to promise Elissa to give riding an honest chance.

It did not take long until Morrigan knew it had been a horrendous mistake, but unfortunately for her, Elissa was quick with using her Flemeth-card, and therefore, Morrigan had no choice but loyally obey.

The older Circle mage found Morrigan’s loyalty surprising, even though it certainly wavered in this moment of hardship.

Wynne laughed lightly. “I think we soon are to set up camp”, she consoled the illegal enchantress. “If you want to, I have worked on a spell I would like to show you later. I firmly believe you would find it interesting”.

Morrigan nodded an answer and Wynne gazed at the surroundings. She closed her eyes and let the early spring sun warm her wrinkled face. She heard Solona’s and Leliana’s soft voices, birds chatter and their horses’ rhythmic hoovefalls clap against the road that was to take them to Denerim, and later Orzammar. If it was not for the pain that never seized to completely let go of its hold of her body, she could with her eyes closed fool herself into thinking she still was in her twenties. After finally letting out her suppressed sigh, Wynne let herself hope that the heating sun would ease her pain, if only for a short while. Once she’d gotten to Denerim, she would make sure to get hold of some poppy and healing poultices. She desperately needed more than the herbs she already had, and she refused to ask Morrigan or Solona for help.

Her eyes snapped open when Alistair, who’d apparently had stopped his horse, looked at her and Morrigan over his shoulder. “Get off the road!”, he shouted with thinned lips and a slightly furrowed brow. He pointed into the forest. “Get off the road now!”.   

 

*

 

Hidden behind trunks and bushes, Elissa petted Cammo’s warm neck in hope that the mare would stay quiet. She and her companions watched the patrolling guards ride down the road. All were tense, and Solona hushed her mount as it huffed. Frost sat by her side as usual, and Zevran could have sworn that the mabari send the horse a glare as she puffed her chest, hoping that Solona would be as proud over her obedience as the hound herself was.

Maker, how they could not afford to get any more attention drawn to them.

The patrol came to a halt and their murmurs reached Zevran’s ears.

“Hey! Did you hear that?”, a man wondered while looking around, trying to gaze among the vegetation and rocks.

“What, Derric?”, a woman sighed. “For the love of the Maker, what are you hearing _now_?”

“It must be that whore who’s still shouting my name”, a second man joined in, scoffing, clearly very satisfied at his own joke. Zevran knew it was not more than a jest – he himself had made many women and men scream his name, but never would he so vulgarly and disrespectfully boast about it. Only men with inferiority complexes did that. He leered quickly at Morrigan’s wonderful, voluptuous porcelain bosom, fast enough not to get caught and turned into a toad. _Yes_ , Zevran thought, _I am way better than him_.

“Ugh”, the woman said with a disgusted noise. “I wonder what your wife will think of you if she heard that while tending to your six children”.

“What? Would you tell her?”. His voice weakened. “It was only a _joke_ ”.

Zevran was right. He smirked to himself, self-satisfied.

“Shh”, the man named Derric hushed his two colleagues. “I swear to Andraste I heard something!”

“Can’t hear a thing”, the other man shrugged after half a minute of listening. “We better get moving, or we will stand here all day listening to creaking branches”.

“Or we’ll get attacked by a bear. Again” the woman interjected. A small pause, then more grimly, “or darkspawn”.

Defeated, Derric hummed. He had lost his youngest sister to a darkspawn, and was certainly in no mood to risk getting tainted. And with that, the patrol continued their way.

Elissa breathed out when they disappeared.

The common travelers they already met were more than enough. Elissa’s jaw clenched when she thought about it; the by-passers’ incredulous glances told her that the news of the odd group they indeed were soon was spreading from one village to another.

To travel armed (most of their armors where thereto ruined) to their teeth with not only a qunari, but also with an elf they treated as an equal, were apparently not very discreet.

 “I think it is time for us to settle down for the night”, she told them as she for a short moment leaned her forehead against Cammo’s beating chest.  

Solona nodded where she stood beside her horse, holding its reins. “Oh, _yes_ ”, she groaned. “I have never agreed with you as much as I do now, Elissa”. She grimaced while she let her free hand massage her sore bum. “Sweet Bride of the Maker, it _hurts_. I think I will never be able to sit down ever again”.

Leliana nodded as she also let out a groan, sending Solona a very sympathetic look. “ _Oui._ Tell me about it”.

“Should you not let Wynne take a look at it?”, Alistair asked with a concerned wrinkle between his brows.

Wynne snickered at his remark. “I believe Solona would want you rather than me to take care of it”.

Alistair’s cheeks reddened as he murmured something unintelligible.  

“I hear streaming water”, Zevran interjected, pointing in the sound’s direction. “Let us go and set up camp there”.

They fought their way to a brook and Sten nodded approvingly as he analyzed the surroundings.

“Defensible enough”, he said. He turned his eyes to Elissa. “Tell me what you would have me do here, _kadan_ , and it will be done”.

“You can help me and Alistair clear away some rocks and branches, if you'd like. Then... we set up our tents”. She smiled at the large man. "Thank you". With his help, it would be done in no time.

 

*

 

Leliana played the lute and sang quietly by the fire. Solona, Frost and Elissa had left the camp to relieve themselves, and Solona’s glowing staff was seen in the distance. It reminded her of a firefly. Frost barked and Solona let out a pearl of laughter, making Leliana smile. Her Warden-Commander had probably tripped, and by the joining laugh that soon was heard, Leliana knew that it indeed was the case.

Wynne had already gone to sleep, and Morrigan sat by her own fire. Leliana saw the book cover in the light of the fire; she was reading the book given to them by Brother Genitivi. The witch’s lips moved silently as she read. Being a former bard, Leliana should have been able to interpret what she was saying, but Morrigan’s angle made it difficult. Leliana gave soon up, and focused instead whole-heartedly on her song.  

Zevran held a piece of coal and stared mindlessly down in his journal while Alistair looked into the fire, leaning his chin against the knuckles on his balled hand. Since Solona still was in a good mood, it was clear the warden had not yet told her about the potential future that maybe waited.

A horse neighed behind her and she cast the scene a glance. Sten left the beasts of burdens and joined the rest of them by the fire.

“You sing a great deal”, he stated and Leliana stopped playing, surprised that he spoke to her. He rarely spoke to anyone but Elissa, and at times Wynne and Zevran.

“Yes, I do”, she said slowly. “Music lifts my spirit. Would… you like me to stop?”

Sten shook his head. “I didn't say that”. His gaze traced over Alistair and Zevran before it returned to Leliana. “Was that part of your Chant?”

Leliana let out a chuckle. “No, Sten”, she smiled at him. “It was a ballad about a highwayman and the tavern girl who loved him. Could you not tell?”

“All your language sounds the same to me”, he admitted flatly. “I thought you were singing of vegetables, actually”. With that, he returned to the horses, and Leliana stared after him with a cheekily smirk. Elissa would love to hear what just had happened.

Leliana was about to start playing again, but just before the first soundwave was to navigate its way through the air, she felt Morrigan’s eyes stare daggers at her.

“I, on the other hand, would greatly appreciate if you would stop singing. _Please_ ”, she added with a disdainful frown, as if the word burned her tongue. Leliana narrowed her eyes as Morrigan simply returned to her book.

She could not for her life see what Elissa saw in her.  

Leliana placed the lute carefully on the ground and crossed sourly her arms over her chest.

Zevran chortled to himself and began drawing, glancing at Leliana’s expression.

Elissa would _love_ this.


	44. Chapter 44

Leliana inhaled sharply as her body was assaulted by a cold stream of water. 

” _Merde_!”, she cried out, her skin prickling in protest. ”Solona! You said you heated it!”

Solona looked up, surprised, with her eyes darting between Leliana and the now empty bucket. 

”I did”, she responded, almost offendedly. She then studied her hands. ”I did”, she repeated, as if she had to convince herself. ”Did you not see me do it?”. Solona turned her eyes to Frost and cupped the mabari’s head. ”You saw me, cutie, did you not?”. 

Frost nodded loyally with her tongue hanging out -- of course, she had seen it.

”I firmly believe you two are lying”, Leliana wheezed out between clattering teeth. ”Explain then why the water is _freezing_?”

Solona shrugged and a small smile curved her lips. Frost whined shortly and returned her interest to the ground. The smile soon faded from the mage’s face and her brows knitted. 

”I must ask you something, Lana”, Solona said hesitantly. “Have… Have Alistair said anything to you?”

Leliana stopped rubbing her body with the soap in a rope and tilted her head.

”Ever since Elissa returned to Redcliffe he has acted… well, I suppose you can call it different”. Solona paused as she donned her tunic. ”I tried to ask him but I also know I should not pressure him. It would be unfair, since I suspect that Elissa told him something in confidence the day she came back”. She sighed. ”He knows that I know he is a bad liar. I am also sure he knows that I am onto him”. Solona narrowed her eyes as she looked into Leliana’s. 

”None of them happen to have said anything to you? You and Alistair are friends, and you and Elissa… Please. If only just a tiny detail...”

The cold water no longer bothered Leliana as her body froze with guilt. She quickly recovered and took control of her own body; she mirrored Solona’s worried expression and shook her head.

” _Non”_ , she answered as she rinsed away the foam, ”I actually do not know what you are talking about? What do you mean, different?”

”You have not noticed?” A small pause. ”Maybe I am only paranoid”, Solona concluded and tried to laugh away the seriousness. ”And if not, he will probably tell me when he can”.

Leliana nodded an answer as she inwardly scolded Alistair for still not telling Solona the truth. 

”I am sure he will”, Leliana smiled back. The smile felt plastered. ”I feel like Elissa does not tell me everything either”

 

*

 

It was midday when they decided to return back to camp. 

The walk was not very far, but far enough when their bellies were devoid of food. Frost walked next to Solona, alert of all the smells and sounds inhabiting the humid woods. 

”I set a trap not far from here”, Leliana mused. She held the bucket in one of her hands, and she let it sway with her every step. ”We should go and check it”

”Oh, yes”, Solona agreed. Her belly roared and Leliana mockingly raised her brow.

”I think you eat more than Alistair and Elissa combined”.

”Do you have any proof of that? No, did not think so”. Solona wiggled her brows in response as they steered their feet in the direction of Leliana’s trap. 

If they had gotten a hare, rabbit or even a squirrel -- maybe even a rat, Solona would be satisfied. The meat they had bought had begun to go rancid, and the nuts and dried fruits were low in stock. Maker, Solona would soon even eat the roots Morrigan collected. 

Frost stopped dead in her tracks, her nose intensely smelling in the humid air.

”Come, girl”, Solona urged. Frost did not move. Solona turned to Leliana, with worry in her eyes.

Something was wrong. Frost never disobeyed. 

”Lana, do you see anything?”

”Darkspawn?”, Leliana wondered as she scanned the area.

”Hah, _no_. Believe me, I would have told you. An animal? Andraste forbid it is another dragon”. 

A twig snapped in the distance and Frost began to bark, ignoring Solona’s attempts to hush her.

”Someone is definitely out there” A beat. ”I do not have my staff with me”, Solona breathed. 

”And I did not bring my bow nor my daggers”. 

Solona drew a deep, shaky breath and her chest tightened. This was the first time she had to meet a foe by herself, and she feared it. But she could not risk a non-armed’s life. ”Lana”, she ordered, “Quickly! Go into hiding”. Her mind stirred as she tried to recover as many spells she could. “Frost and I can manage. Even without my staff, I still have my magic. Without a weapon, you are vulnerable”

Leliana opened her mouth with mutinous intent, ready to protest, but closed it as soon it was opened. She cursed - Solona was right. She knew very well how to kill with bare hands, but this was an ambush. She would probably not live long enough to take down an enemy. 

After sharing a long look with her friend, Leliana decided to do the only thing she could and obliged; slowly she let go of her bucket before swiftly climbing up a tree.

She grasped the lichen-covered branch on which she hunkered down when she saw a group of eight men lurking closer to where Solona and Frost stood. 

Six of the men carried melee weapons whereas the last two were equipped with a longbow and the other a crossbow. 

Leliana’s chest tightened at the realization; they did not stand a chance against them. 

“Who are you?”, Solona called out with a slight quiver to her voice. She internally damned herself for that. Any signs of weakness was to her disadvantage. Frost had silenced, and waited cautiously, with her muscles prepared to fight. No one answered and Solona had to strain herself from looking up at Leliana, not willing to risk her friend’s position. “I know you are out there. Show yourself!”

One of the men scoffed maliciously as he showed himself, with the rest of his group following suit. Solona felt her throat parch from the sight. She had thought the man was operating by himself. 

“What a disappointment, Solona Amell, to find you out here by yourself”, the swarthy man with gleamy teeth said. “Where have your friend gone? If you answer truthfully, we might let you live. It is Leliana of Orlais we are after, not you”. He played casually with his blade, not showing any sign of tension. His men behind him shifted their weights as they prepared themselves for confrontation. 

Frost did the same. Solona bit the inside of her cheek as a whirlwind of thoughts assaulted her mind. 

“She seems to have had her mouth glued together”, one of the men said cheerfully with a nasal voice. A burst of short laughter erupted from the group before the swarthy man silenced them and awaited her answer with a slightly tilted head. 

“What do you want with her?”, Solona finally croaked. It was hard to let the words form in her dry mouth. 

“None of your business, lass”, he responded with an underline of irritation. He wanted his answer, and he wanted it now. He wished to return to Denerim and his wife -- he had been tracing the Orlesian bard for a few weeks, and was sick and tired of both his colleagues and the outdoors. 

When the woman in front of him stood quiet, with her growling mabari next to her, he shook his head. She was useless. He raised one of his hands to signal the bowmen to do their thing. 

One of the men coughed and he suddenly found that the forest was unbelievably quiet. He took a deep breath as a string was tensed. The smell of dirt and moss rooted in his lungs. 

He returned his focus on the woman he had ordered to kill. He furrowed his brows and felt his body tense just as the bowstring he just heard. Her lips were moving, but he could not hear a word. 

With a flick of his wrist, he commanded the bowman to send his arrow towards the woman, while the other bowman shot an arrow at the large hound. The man’s eyes widened as both projectiles of death fell down on the ground. Solona Amell was a damn sorceress, he understood, as her body was protected by an almost transparent barrier. He should have known. He raised his blade and cried out to his men. They ran towards her, and he saw their bodies get maimed by icicles, one by one. 

The ground beneath him shook, and he fell down on his knees. He had become sloppy. It was not the first time he was low on intel -- Marjolaine had as usual not told him much, but his new gained homesickness had made him unfocused. For the first time in years, he was afraid. He wanted to go home, home to his wife. A snowflake slowly fell on his hand and melted on his warm skin. It was beautiful. 

He lifted his gaze. The forest was unbelievably quiet. The hound did not let out a sound as she tore away flesh from one of the bowmen’s throats. Another man opened his mouth, not to speak, but only to let dark blood flow down his chin. A dagger of ice had penetrated his neck.

If he heard the soft thump of someone jumping down on the moss behind him, he did not show it. He stared at the half-melted snowflake, and did not fight back when small, soft hands grabbed his head. His body fell down on the ground, with his head twisted in an unnatural position. He looked like a parody of his former self.

If Leliana had looked at him before running to Solona, she would have seen him smile.


	45. Chapter 45

A few, lone snowflakes slowly fell from the greyish sky. They landed softly, as if they were comforting the blood stained ground and trying to make the vegetation forget about the crimes they had witnessed. Solona kneeled on the forest floor, and let the spongy moss stain her leather covered knees. Fir needles penetrated her leggings and stinged her skin. She did not care, and made no effort to move or brush them off. Her usually rosy cheeks were devoid of color, and there was a salty tang of blood on her tongue. She hated the taste of blood -- almost more than the deceitful taste of lyrium. Yet, she came to wish she had a bottle of the mana-inducing liquid with her. With quivering hands she would have devoured the whole bottle, oblivious to the reasons why she detested it. 

 A wet nose nuzzled her neck. The sensation was cold and spread like a chilling mountain river across her skin, but she could not find the strength to move away from it. She drew a shaky breath, and even though she felt her lungs expand in her chest, it appeared as if she was chipping for air. 

It was first when two warm hands cupped her cheeks, she raised her gaze. Her heavy-lidded eyes locked with Leliana’s.

“Solona”, Leliana urged with knitted brows accompanied by big, seeking eyes, “by the Maker, how are you?”.

 She could not find the initial strength to move her lips, and gave instead Leliana a slight nod. The movement made her nauseous, and Solona groaned as her stomach revolted. 

 “What… What happened?”, Leliana inquired while scanning Solona’s body for injuries. Her hands moved over Solona’s face as if she was making sure she was not someone else. 

Leliana’s worry enhanced her Orlesian accent, and it was first then Solona realized what it was about her voice that captivated Elissa so. If Solona had not been so fatigued, she probably would have smiled. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to suppress the sickness in her stomach, hoping it would make her able to answer.

“He…”. Solona was interjected by a coughing act, and she desperately splayed her hand over her chest before she was able to continue. The coughs almost made her regurgitate. Tears had formed in her eyes, and she found that she did not care if they fell or not. “He said they were after you”.  

“I heard”, Leliana quipped. Solona was at first surprised at the curt response, but it did not take long before she recognized the underlying tone of fear that inhabited her friend’s voice. She had only heard Leliana’s voice betray her in such a matter twice -- the first before Redcliffe, the other while admitting her real profession. 

“Go… Go and see if you can find anything of importance”, Solona adjured. “I… I just need to sit here for a while”. 

Leliana flexibly rose up from her crouching position and made her way to the dead mercenaries. “Will you be alright?”, she asked over her shoulder. 

“Yes, yes”, Solona responded with her eyes already closed. She huddled Frost’s warm body closer. “Just give me a few minutes”.

Time passed, and a few minutes turned into an hour. Leliana held the letter she had found tucked away in one of the men’s pockets, while Solona still waited for her energy and mana to come back to her. Leliana’s hands trembled. Once again, Marjolaine was after her. Leliana buried her face in her hands, trying to hide her glistering eyes from the soft winds and Frost’s equally as soft gaze.  She would never be free from her, and once again her former mentor and lover had done so that she had set her friends’ lives in danger. 

“Solona…”, she whispered to the sleeping woman, quiet enough not to wake her. “Why can the Maker not forgive me for my sins? Why… Why can’t he just let me be...”, she unintentionally crumpled the parchment in her hand as she thought about Elissa and the future she in secret dreamt of, “... happy?”

Frost whined faintly, not willing to leave her mistress’ side, yet not wanting to let Leliana be by herself. 

“I know, _choupette._ ” Leliana forced herself to smile, trying to reassure the mabari. “Oh, I am pathetic. I guess we just have to try and find a solution, _non_?”

 

*

 

It was afternoon when the trio returned to camp, with Solona hanging on Leliana’s arm. She and Frost immediately disappeared into her and Alistair’s tent to continue resting, while Leliana had to explain to the rest of her group of all that had delayed their return. 

Elissa stiffened as Leliana was about to finish the story of events, and hesitantly mentioned Marjolaine’s name. 

“If they had ambushed us here, they might have killed you all”, Leliana concluded with tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. Her nose had reddened, but she did not sniffle. Her pain was a silent one -- one she did not wish to share. “I have decided to leave. My presence is a danger for you all”. 

“My sweet, dear child”, Wynne sighed softly with a stable hand on her shoulder. It was a lot to take in. “Do not dare to speak such foolish gibberish. You have done nothing wrong. Do you hear me? Nothing wrong”. Wynne gestured to the rest of the group. “We all take care of each other, Leliana. We leave no one behind. And,” she added with a wan smile wrinkling her face, “imagine the mercenaries' faces when they realize that they have to kill an old, defenseless woman to get to you. That is not very awe-inspiring, is it?”

“Ah. You forgot the fact that you are hardly defenseless, dear Wynne _”,_ Zevran chimed in with a half smile, “And even if you were, I doubt they would care about such. ‘Honor among mercs’ is unfortunately not an established truth”.

“Because ‘honor among assassins’ is?”, Morrigan wondered with an arched brow. Zevran shrugged his shoulders and sent her a sweet smile. 

“What can I say? I have heard of the term once or twice”, was his answer. 

Wynne shook her head, and turned her full focus on Leliana. “I need to go and look after Solona”, she said while gently caressing her arm. “I fear she is in dire need of a day’s rest... or some lyrium, which I do not have in abundance”.Wynne’s gaze locked on a dying branch in the distance as she pondered. Solona would not agree to take lyrium, and probably not approve of the fact that she would be the reason their journey was further delayed. “I will be back and make certain you are fine later”. 

“Thank you”, Leliana said as she wiped away a stray tear with her thumb. “You are so very kind to me, Wynne. You… You are truly a noble person”. A pause. “You remind me of Lady Cecilie. You have the same grace… the same dignity.” 

Wynne’s brows raised and a short chuckle left her throat. “Me? A noble? I do not know about that, child”, she shook her head. Her expression softened. “But thank you, Leliana. It is very kind of you to say that”. 

Wynne went to check on Solona and Alistair, while Morrigan returned to her own camp. Zevran whistled while he dragged Sten with him, knowing that Leliana and Elissa needed some time by themselves. 

Elissa stared into the embers, with her chin resting on a balled fist. The humid air had fogged her mask, and Leliana held her breath as she for the first time that afternoon dared to look at her lover. 

She did not know what to expect from Elissa. 

“Come, Leli”, Elissa said in a throaty whisper and reached an arm to her. Leliana went to her side and let the arm drape around her back before dragging her closer. The tears had stopped falling by the time she leaned her cheek against Elissa’s shoulder.   

They both sat quietly staring into the dying fire, before Elissa decided that someone had to say something, and that 'someone' ought to be her. “Are you confident that Marjolaine is to blame?”, she wondered. Her voice slightly trailed off, as if she was afraid to utter the words of disbelief. 

Leliana nodded. “ _Oui,_ I found a letter in one of the mercs’ pockets. It is her, Elissa. I am positive it is her”. 

“Mmh”. A beat. “What does it say? Do we have any leads on her whereabouts?”. 

Leliana swallowed and pressed closer to her. “Actually… we have her address”.

“Denerim?”

“ _Oui._ ”

“I…”. Leliana felt how Elissa took a deep, shuddering breath. The first sign of emotion. “I need to get more wood”. 

Carefully Elissa let go of her hold of Leliana and fetched the axe that was leaned against a stone. 

“Elissa…”

“Mmh?”. Elissa stopped and turned to face Leliana, with the axe hanging in her hand. It was first then Leliana saw the trails formed of drizzling tears from her unmasked eye, down alongside her nose, lips and her chin. 

The axe fell to the ground with a metallic clang as it crashed into a rock, and Elissa was caught in an embrace. Leliana smelled of smoke and she burrowed her face into the crook of her lover’s neck. She smelled like Highever the night she lost her family and her name. 

“I am sorry”, Elissa said after a while, holding a handful of Leliana’s tunic in a tight clasp. “It is I and not you who should --”

“Hush, my love”, Leliana cooed, interrupting her. “We are in this together”. 

“Please… Please, do not leave”. Elissa’s cheeks heated from the shame of her pleading. 

Leliana shook her head. “I won’t”. 

Elissa loosened her grip of Leliana’s tunic and turned away while trying to compose herself. It did not become a Warden-Commander to cry. Duncan had surely not. Elissa looked down at her hands. Her nails had become short and cracked with a line of dirt beneath them. Her mother would have gasped at the sight. Her palms were calloused, in a way only swordpeople’s hands could be. It differed from the callouses Leliana and Zevran had, since they moved with bows and daggers. Her hands suddenly reminded her of Cauthrien’s. The hands of a warrior. When she was younger she had worshipped hands like these.

She had kissed Daryn’s every finger. She had held her father’s hand. She had awed Uncle Duncan. 

She had not been able to protect them from corruption and death. And despite the fact that her hands were those of a warrior’s, she had not been there to protect either her sister-in-arms nor her lover.  If she had lost them...

“Do you want us to go see her?”, Elissa breathed, still with her back to Leliana. 

“I do”, Leliana simply said. “I believe she wants to meet me”. 

“And… then?”

Leliana bit the lip of her tongue before answering. “I honestly do not know.”

Elissa picked up the axe, and wiped the hilt dry with the edge of her shirt. “Do you… Do you still love her?”

“In a way…”, she admitted after a few seconds of consideration. A flicker of hurt crossed Elissa's visage.

“If it was Howe --”

“She is not Howe”, Leliana interjected with a sharp voice. “Oh”, she uttered a sound of frustration, “I do not know what I want, Elissa. I do not know if I want to see her dead. I do not know!”

“She is the reason for your nightmares”, Elissa wheezed, first now turning around to look into her stormy ocean eyes. Waves of emotions whirled in them. “She is the sole reason for --”

“ _Stop_ \--”

“-- countless of sleepless nights! It is not only I who disturb your sleep! Look at your back and tell me otherwise! Think about Tug, and tell me otherwise!”

Leliana pointed a quivering finger at Elissa. “How dare you remind me? How dare you talk to me as if I am completely oblivious of what happened before I met you? The Maker made me endure all those things, so I could meet all of you and fight the --”

“‘Fight the Blight’? Really? Do you still believe you had a vision, sent by the Maker himself? I vaguely remember what the Guardian said to you, Leliana, but Morrigan was delighted to fill me in. You are nothing but a fraud”. 

The silence that followed was deafening. 

“Shit. I am sorry, Leliana, please… I did not mean...”. Elissa took a step forward, only to be stopped by a dismissive palm. 

“I know you didn’t”. Leliana did not meet her eyes. “What I want to do with Marjolaine is my choice. It is not yours to decide, just as I can not decide what you should do with Howe. I need your support. I need to know you will follow me, and be by my side whatever happens. I… I can not meet her alone, but the choice needs to be mine”. 

“I --”

“No… Do not answer”. Leliana looked down on her feet before turning her gaze to the embers. “You need to get more wood for the fire. I will go and rest, and I hope you will join me later". A beat. "And we shall not speak more of this... Not today”.


	46. Chapter 46

The newborn candle took its first, flickering breath and began to gleam over the half-dark alley. The lamplighter drew a deep breath as he carefully stepped down his ladder, and exhaled a heavy sigh when his booted feet touched the paved ground. His weary muscles ached of old age as he took the ladder under his arm, and slowly dragged himself to the next lantern. 

Due to the plague that infested the Alienage, he only had one street of lanterns left to lit.

“Poor sods”, he mumbled to himself as he leaned the ladder against the next lantern, guilty over the gratefulness he felt for not being a knife-ear. “As if their lives ain’t dark enough”. 

The whole city of Denerim would in an hour or two shine like a night sky, with street lights creating patterns that reminded those who lived in the castle of the heavenly constellations. He nodded a greeting to a passing colleague, and the old man made sure to hide his frown well. He glared after the younger ability and watched intensely as the man stopped by a lantern and lifted his pole that soon gave life to the lantern.  While he had one wrinkled hand on the ladder, ready to climb, he successfully suppressed an envious growl. If his arms had not been so weary, he could have lit his lanterns with the help of the faster method as well... But it was impossible; he could barely move them without his body’s loud protests. 

 When the light of day had faded, and both the sun and most honorable working men had gone to sleep, the people born in the shadows took control over the city and made it theirs. The man forced himself to never meet their eyes, and he tried to be as invisible a lantern lighter could. As a father of three, he only made sure that none of the shadows passing him were one of his children. He had seen much; prostitutes, addicts and on one occasion he even had to report to a guard that he had seen a dead body hidden in a dark corner of an alley. What he, on the other hand, did not report were apostates. 

He was one of few who did not resent them; no, he almost wished he possessed magical abilities himself. Maker, it would make his job much easier, if nothing else. 

The lantern lighter always made sure not to get in the way of the shadows. He did not want any trouble. He just wanted to lit his lanterns, get his paycheck, and then go home to sleep. That is why he did not pay any attention to the young man that kept himself in the dark, where neither the pale moonlight nor candlelight could reveal his face. He could be anything or anyone. A thief, a noble, a templar or an apostate. The lantern lighter did not care. 

With shrieking muscles, the old man lit the street’s last lantern and marched back home, thinking, that a cuppa tea would be nice.

 

*

 

When Elissa stepped into The Pearl she was met by a cacophony of noises; screams, grunts and thuds of blows. Glasses - both full and empty - were flying like panicked birds in flight across the room until they found either a skull or wall to shatter into. And, in the midst of pandemonium, a woman stood tall, with a smug smile on her visage. She treated the table as it was her stage, and shouted to her crowd; 

“Boys, go!”, she demanded with a voice that held a hint of amusement, as her hands sought the hilts of her two swords that were strapped to her back, “Run home while you still can!”. 

Elissa and Alistair reflexively let their hands rest on their own blades, but Zevran shook his head when his eyes locked with Elissa’s. 

“There is no need to intervene, _mi señora_ ”, he assured her with a smug smile, “She is more than able to take care of this herself”. 

“You know her?”, Solona wondered while putting a warning hand on Alistair’s arm. 

Zevran leaned languidly against a wall, crossing his arms over his chest and watched the spectacle with glimmering eyes. 

“ _Si,_ or... as well as anyone is able to know her, at least”. 

“Maker”, Wynne mumbled while a group of agitated men was shoved out the door. Leliana stood by the older woman’s side and nodded in agreement. “Maker”, she echoed. 

“They need a bit more Chant of Light in their lives, do you not think so, sister… or was it _bard_ ?”, Morrigan sneered. “Men and their phalluses are certainly a pandemic. But you have seen and done them --”, a warning glare from Elissa forced Morrigan to rephrase, “-- _it,_ all”.  

Zevran let out an amused puff of air through his nose at the remark, while Alistair looked a bit offended. Leliana, on the other hand, made the smart choice to completely ignore the witch. 

“Morrigan, Morrigan”, Wynne chided gently, “that was uncalled for”. 

“‘Tis not untrue”, was her simple answer. 

Elissa’s eyes lit on Sanga across the room, who was occupied with commanding servants to take care of the chaos. Broken chairs and turned tables were to be removed or restored. And, as if the madam could feel Elissa’s gaze, she turned and let slightly narrowed brows raise in surprise after seconds of thinking. The surprised expression quickly changed into a light smile, and she began to make her way to greet her newly arrived customers. 

“There you are”, she said and gave her two air kisses. “It has been months!!”, she then continued, “Your Ladyship’s absence is truly heartbreaking. Your health seems to have improved since your last visit”.

“I believe you can manage quite well without me, madam, if I may say so”, Elissa said in a somewhat wry tone. Through the din of music and chatter, she heard Leliana whisper something unintelligible to Wynne, and she felt her cheeks heat. The air between her and Leliana was yet still not without some tension. “What did we miss?” 

“Bah, that?”, Sanga dismissed the question, not quite successful in managing to hide her frustration. “It was nothing out of the ordinary”. She hesitated before adding, “You know the type, darling. They were nothing but pigs that wanted my pearls for free”. She paused and let her index finger drum against her chin. 

“Forgive me for my impudence, honey, but from judging your rags, I doubt that… well, _that_ , is a fashion statement? Or have you suddenly grown fond of...” Sanga glanced pointedly to Leliana, “Orlesian culture?”

Elissa was bewildered before she realized that Sanga had meant her mask, and she could almost feel her neck redden. “Not that I do not like Orlais and its countrymen”, Elissa answered with a twitching smile, “but this is really nothing more than the result from a... well, small misstep from my part”.

The shame from her meeting with Flemeth blossomed back to life, and she felt a dragonlike talon claw inside her chest. Will the shame ever go away?

 _First when my memory is erased,_  she concluded bitterly. 

“I see”. Sanga was curious, but knew she could not ask for more information. She was not even certain she wished to know - information could come with a heavy price, and she was more of a seller than a buyer. “Shame on such a pretty face”, Sanga mused in a nearly disappointed voice, “but I must admit, it makes you more… captivating”.

Leliana could no longer stay in the background and stepped forward, and purposefully let her hand brush Elissa’s. The territorial marking did not escape Sanga’s omniscient gaze, and the procuress tilted her head, with a hand resting on her hip. She bit her inner cheek, before finally inclining her head in a imperceptible nod. She understood that there now were boundaries, and did not intend to cross them.

A noise from the bar made her look back over her shoulder, and she smiled again. 

“Ah, Elf!”, Sanga called, “Are you not to introduce our knight in shining armor for your companions?”

“ _Si._ This magnificent elf is _more_ than willing”, he chortled. He had his arm around her wrist as they approached them. 

“This is my dear acquaintance, the Queen of the Eastern Seas and the sharpest blade in Llomerryn”, he said with a graceful gesture that made it look like he introduced them to a true royalty. “Or, as some others maybe would degrade themselves to call her, Captain Isabela. And this, my Queen, is the formidable group I once was sent to assassinate, but then ended up joining. It is a terribly long story, I am afraid”. 

“I have time”, Isabela said with a quirked brow. Her eyes wandered over Leliana’s body. “And I can see why you did not want to kill them”, she added. Morrigan let out a huffing sound of disgust. Isabela noticed the war hound by Solona’s side and her lips curled. 

“Uh, I wondered what it was that smelled. I had almost forgotten I was in Ferelden”, she uttered and received a glare from the dog in question, as well as the others. 

Wynne cleared her throat. “Excuse me, madam, but our rooms?”, she politely interjected, before Solona could come with any protests. 

Sanga made a whirling gesture. “Yes, yes. You are lucky. With all the refugees…”. She sighed lightly, and her expression changed into a tired one. “The men we just oust out rented, so clearly we have a few vacant rooms. They are, of course, yours to take. Go and speak with the barkeeper, and get your keys”.

 

Wynne and Morrigan left immediately, with Sten at their heels. Sten’s often neutral expression held one of antipathy as he walked by the perfumed and heavily painted prostitutes. When the Qun had occupied the fallen countries, the order would be restored, and vile professions like these were to be eradicated. 

“So, what brings you to Denerim this time?”, Sanga wondered while letting her eyes scan the room. She led the group to the fumoir. She was pleased to see that the atmosphere in The Pearl was back to the usual, and both her clientele as well as her artisans behaved like good lapdogs. Yes, she thought, it would be a most profitable night. 

Elissa felt Alistair’s and Solona’s questioning gazes, but Elissa only shook her head. “Business”, she responded vaguely, thinking about Marjolaine and Orzammar. 

Her heart flickered in fear as she thought of the bard that threatened the woman she had come to love. She glanced quickly at Leliana, and while her visage betrayed no emotions, her face has lost some of its colors. Despite that Leliana tried to keep her head up high, it was clear that she was terrified. Leliana’s marred body was Marjolaine’s deceitful making.

Elissa resisted the urge to ball her hands into fists and run out into the night to end the woman’s life. Marjolaine was not a woman without intellect -- it was only empathy she lacked. 

Isabela languidly fell down on a chaise. She held a drink in her hand and watched as Elissa brought up her pipe. 

“Business?”, she wondered and said what Sanga choose not to, “Zev, please don’t say you have become a _merchant._  That would ruin my fantasies”. 

“Ah, my dear Isabela, it would never occur to me to ruin your magnificent mind”. 

“Have you heard of a woman by the name Marjolaine? She is Orlesian”, Elissa asked while keeping her eyes on her pipe. She felt Leliana stiffen next to her, and Elissa turned to face her and Solona. 

“Why don’t you take our packs and go prepare our rooms?”, she offered. “We have a… long day tomorrow”. She managed to pull off a smile to Solona and Alistair. “Go and tell the others so you all can get a meal afterward”. 

“Sure”, Alistair nodded and proffered Solona his arm. His face had gotten a crimson hue, as he avoided to look at the prostitutes. It was quite an accomplishment since they were in a stuffed brothel.  

“But --”, Leliana began, before she was cut off by Elissa. 

“Let me take care of this, Leli. Trust me. I will be there soon”.

Leliana felt Isabela’s leering burn on her skin, and she defiantly shook her head. “No, I will stay. Marjolaine is my responsibility. I asked you for one thing… and it was your support”. 

“Lovers’ quarrel”, Isabela sighed mockingly. With a nod in Leliana’s direction, “She is a persistent one, isn’t she? Mmh…”. She let her tongue wet her lips. “Redheads.”

Elissa glared at Isabela. Even though the Rivaini woman with the same skin color as Duncan was attractive, with her highly enticing neckline, she immediately disliked her. Isabela met Elissa’s eyes and chuckled in response to the glare. 

“Spooky”, she said before taking a swig from her drink, “But no, I haven’t heard of any Marjolaine. Have you?”, she asked Sanga while staring down her glass.

Sanga subtly shook her head after a minute of thinking. “I am afraid I do not recognize the description”.

Elissa exhaled a cloud of smoke as she thought about the next day. She and Leliana were to enter Marjolaine’s estate by themselves -- by the front door since Leliana knew that Marjolaine already expected them, and have Zevran, Solona, Alistair and Wynne outside as backup.  

Every fiber in Elissa’s body screamed that it was wrong, but Isabela was right in one thing - Leliana was persistent and unyielding in this decision. 

Zevran let his eyes dart between Isabela and Elissa. “What do you say?”, he wondered with a flashing smile, “A game of Wicked Grace?”

Isabela’s eyes glimmered. “Oh yes”. She let her tongue play with her lip piercing. “And if you win”, she said and pointed at Elissa with her glass, “you will get… hm… you will get my ship. And, if I win --”

“You get a night with me”, Leliana said with folded arms. 

Elissa’s eyes widened. “What?!”

“Deal!”, Isabela laughed and jumped up from the chaise. Zevran groaned.

He should have expected this, but he had to admit, that a part of him found that the next coming hours would be exciting.

 

*

 

“She only gave me a tour of her ship”, Leliana repeated as she watched Elissa don her ragged clothes. 

“She cheated!”, Elissa muttered. She felt as if her chest was to explode in anger. And humiliation. And jealousy. And...

Leliana rolled her eyes. “So did you, _mon Coeur_. She was only better at che--"

“I should have known when she gambled her ship. What was its name?”

 _“The Siren’s Call."_ Leliana sounded exasperated. "I have already told you that” 

Elissa huffed. “What kind of a captain risks her ship?”

“A confident one”. Leliana rubbed her cheek in frustration. “And if you would have won, she wouldn’t have given you it anyway”. 

“What was I to do with a ship anyway? And no, she would have dueled me... Yet you offered yourself gladly”. Elissa spun around and let her eyes dig into Leliana’s. “Did you want me to duel her for you? Or did you simply want to fuck her?”

“I wanted neither, as I have said a thousand times”, Leliana said patiently. “I just wanted a distraction”.

“I should have dueled for you”. Elissa dragged her hand through her loose hair. “Ugh! We were to go through our plan, Leliana”. Her shoulders slumped. “I… I do not know what to expect. Marjolaine has tried to kill you two times, and you decide to go on a guided tour the night before we are to meet her. What… What in the Void were you thinking?”. 

“I only wanted a distraction, Elissa. Isabela is a good conversationalist... in her own way. And you know that Marjolaine is as unpredictable as she is predictable. There is to no use, to go through a shallow plan an umpteenth time”. 

“But you find her attractive?”

“Isabela? I do. She is… interesting. But it is you I love, and only you whom I want to be with”. 

A quiet set of knuckles rapped the door. “We are ready when you are, my dears”, Wynne said softly, her voice muffled by the wooden door. 

Elissa let out a heavy breath. Even though she hadn’t drunk anything the night before, she had a throbbing headache and a swimming mind. She saw Leliana shiver and her embarrassment and frustration disappeared in a whim. Her only role in this was to support Leliana -- this was her battle.  She crouched next to Leliana who sat on the edge of the bed, and grabbed her hands. 

“I love you too”, she whispered, “and I will always support you. You are right. This is your decision. I… I only --”.

“I understand”, Leliana croaked with a parched throat, and let her thumb caress the back of Elissa’s hand.  “We should leave now. This waiting is… unsufferable”. 

A moment of silence, and Elissa nodded. She got up and was to let her lips brush Leliana’s, but was instead met by a cheek. 

“Tonight”, Leliana murmured, “when this is over, I am all yours. I am sorry. I... We, need to focus”. 

Elissa bit her lip, and another rap on the door sounded. “Girls?”, Wynne wondered when no one answered her.

“We are on our way!”, Elissa called. She forced herself to smile, in a futile try to give her lover some of her own wavering strength. “Let us do this”.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: major character death

A deep, shuddering breath filled Leliana’s lungs with the crisp, humid morning air. The calmness she had found in the cloister’s morning prayers was almost reachable enough to make her forget about her pounding heart -- she could hint the smell of incense and moss in her nasal glands, as if the earthy scents were preserved to protect her from the poisonous odour the streets of Denerim offered.

The lanterns still shone over the excrements, the dropped pieces of coals and rotten carcasses that laid bare on the paved ground. Fetid streams of wash water, piss and rain splashed beneath her feet. Soon the beggars would come and cleanse the streets of what they could salvage; before the crossing sweepers woke up -- and before someone could see the shameful act of gathering other people’s trash. 

 

When Leliana had said that she had missed being in the city, this was not what she had meant. She had barely moved in the lower parts of the Fereldan capital, and from the disturbing wrinkle on Elissa’s forehead, she could see that her lover hadn’t either. Val Royeaux was undoubtedly more progressive than Denerim with its sewage systems.

 

From the corner of her eye, she could see that Solona carefully watched her every step in an attempt to not soil her shoes, while Wynne and Zevran moved unconcernedly about their surroundings. 

 

“I have taken care of dying men since I was in Solona’s age”, Wynne had explained once. “I nursed them and I cleaned their necrotic wounds. I made it my duty to wipe away every drop of sweat and dirt from their paling bodies, so that their loved ones could say a dignified last farewell. That is probably why the city streets covered with horse droppings and urine do not disturb me... all that much”. 

 

Leliana let the pad of her index finger rub against its counterpart on the thumb. The friction generated heat, and she could feel the warmth climb up her hand, up to her wrist. With her pulse determinately beating in her ear -- muting the sound of a guard’s clanking armor in the distance, she made sure to check that she had brought her daggers with her. The cold metal answered her searching fingers with a slight comfort and a false sense of security. 

Leliana knew that daggers wouldn’t save her. She bit the tip of her tongue. Marjolaine was a snake with glimmering scales of the most beautiful colors, and it was her poetic words that once had entranced her, enslaved her. Words were more dangerous than any dagger.

Leliana clenched her jaw. She would not let that happen again -- no longer was she a naive, young girl whose mind was poisoned by romantic stories and dreams of hidden treasures.  

She had been broken and scarred, and her ruined body made sure to remind her of that.  

But, there was more. She had been broken - yes, but she had also been healed. She had found love in not only the Maker, but also in the woman who warily moved by her side, vigilant of any patrolling guards. She had found love in the form of friends. 

And it was that love that was to protect her from Marjolaine.

Or so she hoped. 

 

“This is it”. Alistair’s mumbling broke the anxious silence. “This is the address”. 

Solona studied the weathered building in front of her, before turning her attention to Leliana. “We can still go back, Lana”.

“Solona is right, my dear”, Wynne said softly. Her aged brows were narrowed in concern. “You do not have to do this. You have nothing to prove. We all know you are not the person you once was”.  

“She knows I am here”, Leliana breathed. She felt a pearl of sweat roll down her stomach -- a bodily rebellion against the chilly air. “And she will never let me be free, if I do not confront her. I… I must do this. I must.” Leliana turned to Elissa, who met her eyes with such an intensity that made Leliana knees go weak.

“I will follow your lead”, Elissa said, not breaking their eye contact. She took a step forward and grabbed her clammy hands. “We are doing this, together. And whatever you decide to do…”.  

Leliana gently let her hands break free from the grasp. The lantern light was reflected in the silverite that concealed one half of her lover’s face. The other half told Leliana all she had to know. Despite their sometimes stormy history, lined with disagreements and childish quarrels, there also existed a love, as pure as fresh snow. What once had been nothing more than a desperate searching of a place to belong, there now was a home. A future. Something to long and fight for.

Even if it meant killing an archdemon, and even if it meant erasing the ghosts of her past. 

 

“Wait out here”, Leliana ordered her four companions. Her eyes locked with Zevran’s, and he nodded respectfully. Maybe, Leliana mulled, she could learn to forgive him for his past deeds. If Elissa could, so could she. Andraste had let her walk through the fire in order to save not only Elissa’s and Eamon’s lives, but also all of Ferelden and - maybe - Thedas. She had to live up to that. 

She was sent on this mission by the Maker, and she realized that maybe all her struggles were challenges given to her by Him, in order of her to earn His trust. 

 

“We will be out here, Leliana of Orlais”, Zevran said with his trilling accent, interrupting her thoughts. 

Alistair rubbed the back of his head. He smiled twitchingly. “And if you need us, we are armed and ready”.

“That we are”. Solona let out a small breath. “Just be... careful”, she then said quietly, giving Leliana’s arm a squeeze. 

 

With quivering hands, Leliana turned and slowly began to open the door. She immediately lifted her hand and signaled to Elissa to stay put. 

“Be cautious”, she whispered to her, with the door slightly ajar. Her hands had at that point forgotten their fear, and with nimble movements she untriggered the first trap. The trap sighed a clicking sound, and Leliana nodded to Elissa before they both stepped into the dark hall. 

Crooked, dusty paintings adorned the worn walls. Leliana let her hands search the planks, and swiftly made another trap unusable. 

In the room further ahead, the light from a candle played on the walls, creating shapes of the ghouls Leliana spent her last two years running from. 

Marjolaine hardly ever slept, and she had undoubtedly already heard them. While a part of Leliana wished to run back to the deep Brecilian Forests, she knew she could not. She was tired of running, tired of hiding. She had cut her hair in hope of trying to change who she was.

Her old and new life, she now understood, had to merge into one. She could no longer live with a split identity. 

And to speak reason with Marjolaine, if now such a thing was possible, was her key to absolute freedom. It was with a straight back she began to stride towards the lit room. The hatred she had felt for her former lover had disappeared. If she could forgive Zevran, she could forgive herself. And if she could forgive herself.... she could forgive Marjolaine.

No one needed to die, no blood had to spill. Yet Leliana felt her fingers search for her daggers’ hilts.   
She could hear Elissa’s steady breaths, and as she closed the distance to the room, they were accompanied by the sound of a quill scratching against unfurled parchment. 

Then, a third sound joined in; the nasal voice that sent chills down her spine. 

“Leliana!”. A chair scraped against the floor, and Leliana took the last step inside the lit room. “So lovely to see you again, my dear”. 

 

Marjolaine stood behind her desk. She was shorter than Leliana remembered, and her long, black hair was enhanced with silvery strands. Leliana felt her throat go dry from the sight. It felt as no time had passed. Marjolaine was still a magnificent wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Spare me the pleasantries. I know you’re --”. 

“Oh”. Leliana was interrupted by Marjolaine, who breathed out through the half smile that graced her visage. “You must excuse the shabby accomodations… I try to be a good host, but you see what I have to work with?”. She gestured at the room. “I have tried my very best, to make this place welcoming for my favourite girl”. She let out a theatrically sigh, and moved her calculating gaze from Leliana to Elissa. Leliana could see the muscles on Elissa’s jaw twitch as she strained herself from pulling up her daggers. _Please_ , Leliana begged, _follow my lead, my love. I can handle her_. 

“This country smell like wet dog. Everywhere. I cannot get the smell out. Even now it is in my hair, my clothes… Ugh. And I see”, Marjolaine continued with an amused wrinkle at the edge of her eye, “you brought your own guard dog with you. Very Fereldan of you”. She sniffed in the air before crinkling her nose. “An intriguing specimen, although she smells like all the rest. Tell me, sweet Leliana, how do you stand it? What is your secret?”

“I am not here for some petty talk, Marjolaine. You framed me, had me caught and tortured. I thought that in Ferelden, I would be free from you, but it seems I am not”. Leliana could hear her voice grew weaker with every word that was spoken. Old wounds opened up, and she could almost feel warm blood pour from the burning scars on her back. “What happened to make you hate me so? Why do you want me dead so badly?”

“Dead?”. Marjolaine raised a thin, sculpted brow. “Nonsense”. She shook her head. Her onyx-colored hair glistened in the candlelight. “I know you, my Leliana. I know what you are capable of. Four, five men… You can dispatch easily”. Her painted lips transformed into a full smile. “They were sent to give you cause to come back to me. And see? Here you are”. Marjolaine took a step forward, and Leliana huffed. She wanted answers.

“You are so transparent”, she said with a subtle shake of her head. “What are you up to, Marjolaine? Why are you in Ferelden?”  

Marjolaine stood quiet for a few moments before she spoke up. Her tone had grown more serious. “In truth?”, she finally asked. “You have knowledge that you can use against me. For my own safety, I cannot let you be”. She waved her hand in Leliana’s direction, not minding the guard dog next to her. “Did you think I did not know where you were? Did you think I would not watch my Leliana? ‘What is she up to’, I thought. ‘The quiet life, the peasant clothes, hair ragged and messy like a boy… this is not her’. You were planning something, I told myself. So I watched… but no letters were sent. No messages. You barely spoke to anyone”. 

Marjolaine’s finger drummed against her chin, and she smiled again. “Clever, Leliana. Clever. You almost had me fooled. But then you left the Chantry, so suddenly. What conclusions should I draw? You tell me”.   

“You…”. Leliana took a deep breath. “You think I left because of you? You think I still have some plan for… for revenge? You are insane. Paranoid!”. 

Leliana heard Elissa shift her weight beside her. “Leliana’s focus is set on the Blight”, Elissa uttered throatily.  

“Oh, the disfigured guard dog speaks?”. Marjolaine let out a short pearl of laughter. The false clang could have broken glass.  “Is _that_ what you think? You know”, she added, “If I were you, I would believe nothing she says. Not a one. She will use you. You look at her and see a simple girl. You see a friend”. She paused and studied Elissa’s expression. “ _Non”._ Marjolaine clicked her tongue and waved a finger in the air. _“_ You see a lover...”. Marjolaine’s eyes glimmered with glory as Elissa snarled. “Leliana is not the trusting and warm person you believe she is. It is an act”. 

Leliana’s heart skipped a beat as Elissa’s expression changed into one of doubt. ‘No’, she wanted to scream until her lungs collapsed, ‘do not listen to her!’. But this was not the right time to reveal more weaknesses. Marjolaine would rip off a bite of their flesh and feast on it. 

“I am not you, Marjolaine”, Leliana instead said as coldly she could muster, hoping with all her heart that Elissa trusted her enough to not fall for Marjolaine’s lies. “I left because I didn’t want to become you”. 

“Oh, but you _are_ me. You cannot escape it. No one will understand you the way I do, because we are on and the same. Do you know why you were a master manipulator, Leliana? It is because you enjoyed the Game; you reveled in the power it gave you. You cannot change or deny this”. 

“No. She is nothing like you!”. Elissa took a daunting step forward, with her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger, but was hindered by Leliana’s hand on her arm. 

“Your mabari is feisty”, Marjolaine snickered. “You need to keep her in a shorter leash, my Leliana, or she will bite”. 

Leliana clenched her hand into a fist. “You will never threaten me or my friends ever again, Marjolaine. I want you out of my life, forever. Leave us alone. If I see you --”

“Let me guess; if you see me once more, you will kill me?”. Marjolaine shook her head, and let her hair float in the air as if a breeze had caught it. Her painted lips pouted, and a short whistle emerged. From the room’s back door, three women soundlessly entered. Their faces were hidden in the shadows, but Leliana knew every one of them; she had once _been_ them; young and entranced by Marjolaine’s looks as well as her promises. “I am terribly sorry, my Leliana, but I will not let that happen”. 

 

From the corner of her eye, Leliana saw Elissa pull out her dagger. The last thing she heard before the Veil broke loose was the front door being thrown open with such a force that a painting crashed against the planks.

 

*

 

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck, not letting his eyes off the front door in which Elissa and Leliana had disappeared. “How do you think it’s going?”, he wondered when nobody said anything.

“Shh”, Zevran urged him. His pointy ears listened carefully after every sound. In the distance, he could hear guards’ heavy boots splash in puddles, the sweeping of a broom against stone, the clicking sound of running feet and the muted voices of two Orlesians speaking. “We need to get closer”, he concluded and shared a quick look with Wynne. 

“Oh, dear”. Zevran could easily hear the worried tones Wynne’s words carried. 

 

Just as Solona was prepared to climb out from their hiding place, she was yanked back by Alistair. Solona’s eyes widened as she spotted two men who hurriedly ran down the street. 

“You sure you heard her signal?”, one of them asked the other. 

“Aye”, was the simple response, and after a second of catching their breaths, they kicked the door open. 

 

“Well, my friends, I undoubtedly believe this is our cue”. Zevran flexibly jumped over the crates that had hidden them.  

With the rest of the group behind him, he rushed into the house that nog harbored nothing but chaos. The candle had fallen to the floor, and had given rise to the flames that climbed up the curtains, seducingly licking the ceiling.

The smoke sought its way into his lungs, and with watery eyes, he saw one of the men through the grey veil. It was with swift motions he approached him, and buried the short blade in his back. Dark blood ran down his wrist, and he tried to suppress a cough. As he regained control over his body, it was with swimming vision was he recognized Elissa. She was cornered by a hooded assailant, and a trickle of blood ran down her unmasked half of the face. He set out for her, and danced towards them, his dagger raised as if he was the maestro of an orchestra. The grunted sounds of fighting were his harpsichord, the laughing fire his violins, and the drums of falling bodies accompanied his beating pulse. 

With a slick flick of his wrist, the ending note sounded, and the hooded woman dropped to the floor. He hunkered down next to her, and saw into her big eyes. Fear and regret whirled inside them, and he wondered, if he the day he died, he would have the same expression. No, was the quick answer. He would not. 

The blade kissed the pale skin of her neck hungrily, as if he was making love to Isabela rather than Mithra, and the woman’s last words were drowned to nothing more than a gurgle. 

 

He tried to cover his eyes from the smoke that wished to devour him, and he lifted his gaze up to the room. Alistair stood nonplussed, with his hands barely holding onto his blood-covered sword. Zevran imagined that he could her every droplet of blood that fell from its tip onto the planks. 

“She has no pulse”, Solona said breathlessly. Zevran stood up and walked to them, pausing in his tracks every time a coughing act halted him. From outside he could hear bells ring. Someone had alarmed the guards. Solona let her fingers go from Leliana’s neck, and Elissa kneeled next to her lifeless body, with grimy hands cradling her head. 

“Do something”, he could hear her whisper. “Please”. 

“Move!”, Wynne said as she hurried to the scene. The spells of ice she had used in fighting made her fingertips purple. When Elissa made no effort to get out of the way, Alistair had to pull her. 

Wynne tore apart the tunic at Leliana’s stabbed chest, and with no time to spare, she took a deep breath and let electricity thunder from her hands. Leliana’s body convulsed. One time, two times, three times. 

“Still no pulse”, Solona repeated, her face sooty and contorted. Wynne let another pulse of electricity flow into the woman’s chest.

“Her nerve system is blocked by a fast-acting toxin”. Wynne slowly let her bloodied hands go of Leliana. “Even if I got her heart to beat, she is too far gone”. 

Zevran could hear that a group of guards closed in. “We need to leave”, he said thickly. The warm smoke burned his lungs, and he could feel the flames reaching for him. “And we need to leave now”. 

 

Solona slowly forced herself to close Leliana's eyelids, so that Leliana no longer had to stare into the abyss of nothingness. She could not bear the thought of leaving her behind, knowing her friend's open eyes soon would melt from the fire that surrounded them. She looked into them one last time, and realized that she never will understand how it was possible that they a moment ago glistened with life, but now stared past her through a dimmed luster.

How easily did life ebb out from ocean eyes?

Despite the quickly increasing temperature, her body shivered and she found that she was covered in cold sweat. Solona glanced down at the woman who lay dead at Leliana’s side. This must be Marjolaine, Solona thought as she studied the woman from Leliana's nightmares. Her throat had been punctured, and Solona assumed that they had ended each others' life. Marjolaine wore an almost bored expression, as if she had seen the afterlife and found it extremely dull.   
Solona could not turn her gaze back to Leliana. She could not stand seeing Leliana's lips that already had began to put on a blue hue.

A plank interrupted her thoughts with a shrill shriek as its moisture was dragged out from its fibers.

“Zevran is right”. Wynne got up, no longer minding her aching joints, and after a long, watery look at Leliana, she demandingly grasped Solona’s arm. A healer's job was to save lives, and if they stayed, no one of them would get out alive. Zevran could not tell if the tears on Wynne’s cheeks were from the smoke or grief, but he suspected it was the latter. “The bells are ringing, and this fire will swallow us whole”. 

Elissa said nothing as she let Alistair drag her out the back door, and it was first when Zevran saw into her hollow eyes he understood. 

The dead could not speak.


	48. Chapter 48

Isabela’s neck strained painfully as she tried to stretch it out. To fall asleep with the head on the table was certainly not how she had imagined spending her night.

Especially not when she was in a brothel. 

She played with a knife, mindlessly carving into the table. She had not noticed Zevran leaving, but what she had noticed, was that he did not dive deep down her throat when they met. She frowned and paused to stare down her cleavage. No, she could not find anything wrong there. Her bosom was as fine as ever. 

She ordered another drink, hoping it would wash away the bitter taste that harbored in the back of her mouth. When the barkeeper reluctantly handed it to her, she gulped it down, and soon came to realize that it was the drink itself that had left the foul flavor. She shrugged her shoulders at her newfound knowledge. 

She had had worse, that was for certain. 

The door opened and she cast the newcomers a casual glance. Her lips curved into a small smile as she recognized them. 

“Hey!”, she shouted with a raised glass. Zevran met her eyes and subtly shook his head. He took a step forward, allowing a candle to lit up his face. Isabela’s brows narrowed. It was first then she noticed that his face was covered in dark smudges, and his hair had been shortened in an uneven manner. 

“Go tell Sten to pack his things”, Elissa ordered Alistair tonelessly. 

Alistair hesitated, sharing a look with Solona. “But --”, he began, but was interrupted by a dismissive hand. 

“She had her pyre, and is in her beloved Maker’s spirit garden”. Elissa rushed to the stairs. “Soon the whole district will be on fire, and I sure as the Void do not wish to be here when they begin to look for suspects”. 

Isabela watched with great interest at Solona who furiously wiped away free-falling tears from her cheeks, but her steps were hindered by Wynne who - if possible, Isabela thought - seemed to have aged with at least ten years, in the few hours they had been away. 

“Let her mourn”, Wynne told her in a hushed whisper. Solona jerked away from Wynne’s hands and leaned into Alistair’s arms, but did not pursue the Warden-Commander. 

Alistair looked very much like a boy who’d lost his candy, Isabela could not help but think, with his lower lip slightly jutting out. 

Zevran followed Elissa to the flight of stairs. “No”, she said, not meeting his eyes. “You are not coming with us. You need to stay here and help me with something”. She paused, and her voice almost cracked as she continued. “Remember Amethyne?”

He nodded, and knew right away what it was she asked. He was a man born in the shadows, and he was the one of them who was best suited for the job… now when Leliana was gone. “Of course”.

“Please… Find her before we return. I…”. She cleared her throat. “I have a promise to keep”. 

“I will”. Zevran stood still and watched as Elissa ran up the stairs. He finally let out a deep sigh, and decided to slouch down next to Isabela. 

“Where is the Orlesian?”, Isabela asked with her face hidden behind her glass. “Did something go wrong?”

“Depends on whom you are asking”, Zevran said after a while of silence. 

“Well, I ask you, Zev”. 

“Then yes, dear Isabela. It went terribly wrong”. His eyes followed Solona and Alistair as they went up the stairs, and it was first when they had vanished from his sight, he ordered a drink. “Indulge me, my beautiful friend. For how long are you staying in Denerim? I would highly appreciate your help on a project”.

“Ah”, Isabela said. “Does 'the project' involve some breaking and entering?”

“It certainly does… and a possible plague, but it should not be any problem with you, I believe?”. 

“Please”, Isabela scoffed while trying to wipe away some dirt from Zevran’s cheek with her thumb, “I am a walking disease”. She then carefully put down her glass, thinking about the rather good looking redhead she had tried to seduce earlier, but utterly failed in doing. “She died... didn’t she?”

Zevran’s knitted brows were all the answer she ever needed.

 

*

 

Morrigan growled as she was awakened by the sounds of thuds. She had tried to sleep through the night to the many sounds of moaning, and was greatly irritated. She looked over the edge of her quilt and found Elissa beginning to pack her things. 

“And what do you think you are doing?”, Morrigan wondered with an annoyed frown. 

“Packing your stuff”, Elissa answered curtly. “We are leaving in five minutes”. 

Morrigan sighed. “So _now_ we are in a hurry to the land of dwarves?”. She threw off the quilt and sat up, letting her bare feet touch the floor. She was entirely naked, and expected to hear a remark from Elissa. When none came, she narrowed her eyes. “Did someone die on your little sidequest?”

Morrigan watched as Elissa’s face blanched, but the Warden-Commander did not stop packing. Morrigan stood up, now wide awake. 

“Elissa?”, she asked while beginning to don her usual clothes. Yet again, she received no sarcastic comment for the rags she wore. 

“No one indispensable”, was the short answer. “So, this should be it”. Elissa threw the pack at Morrigan’s feet. “Come and meet us downstairs. And Morrigan… Give your key to the barkeeper”. 

Morrigan watched as Elissa hurried away, with her own packs thrown over her shoulders. 

“Sten! Load the horses!”, she could hear her shout. 

And all that Morrigan could think was, _do not say it is Alistair who died_.

 

*

 

“I…”. Solona swallowed. “I cannot believe her”. 

Alistair said nothing as he continued to carelessly throw his numerous belongings into his pack. 

“Alistair?”, she repeated. “What do you think?”

“I think it is wise to leave”, he said after a while, with his back still turned to her. “Don’t you hear the bells? The fire must be spreading. If they find us here...”

“Yes, yes. You are... right”. Solona hesitated before she hugged him from behind, still trying to hold on to the shock rather than the slowly emerging feelings of loss. “I just… I just cannot…”. Her voice cracked, and Alistair immediately spun around, letting her fall into his arms. 

“At least she got her revenge”, Alistair tried to comfort while blinking his burning eyes. He wondered if the words rang as false for her as they did for him. 

“She did”. The words tasted sour, and she pressed herself closer to him. His bristle scratched her ear, but this time, the sensation did not soothe the pain that heaved with her every breath. “She did”, she repeated in hope of convincing herself. 

As soon as the words left her mouth, Solona wondered if she forever was doomed to feel the taste of sour lies and salt sorrow on her lips. 

“At least we are here”, Alistair mumbled against her hair. “And we will continue to be here”. 

“And never forget”.

“No”, Alistair agreed. He closed his eyes and smelled her hair. The odor of smoke had hidden the fruity scents he longed for. “Never forget”. 

Alistair dragged her even closer, and hoped that Solona one day would forgive him for what he soon had to reveal. 

_When the worst is over, I will tell her, Leliana. By Andraste’s fire, this I swear._

 

*

 

Smoke plumes curled their way up the sky, mixing with the palette of the morning sky. Warm tears rolled down Anora’s unpainted face, and she felt how the droplets one by one crashed down onto her clasped hands. 

“Maker’s breath”, she whispered as she watched the inferno. “Why do not anybody do something!?”. Anora let out a frustrated cry as she watched the spreading fire from the safety of her terrace. “We have thousands of refugees -- we cannot afford to have more homeless!” 

Loghain stood by her side and put a strong hand on her shoulder.

“The soldiers and civilians are doing their best, my Anora”, he said calmly. 

Anora bit her inner cheek as she shook her head and removed her father’s hand. “I should be down there. I should be there and help them. I cannot stand here and helplessly watch my people die”. 

“They are no longer your responsibility”, Loghain sighed tiredly. “I do not want you to think such foolish things”.

“They are, and will until the day I die, be my responsibility”. Anora wiped her hands dry against the nightgown she still wore, before she clasped them again. She took a deep breath. Even though there were kilometers between her and the fire, she could smell it. “Cailan would have wanted me to be there with them”. 

“Cailan wanted a lot of things”, was the cold answer. “And look where that got him”. 

 _That was because he trusted you, Father. Because_ I _trusted you._

“Your Majesty”. A winded messenger stood by the open door, leaning a hand against the jamb as he tried to fill his lungs with shallow breaths. His eyes darted between father and daughter Mac Tir, as if he was not sure who it was he was addressing. “We have counted it to sixteen casualties so far, and about thirty wounded. Most of them elderly or disabled”, he added. He looked down at his own feet as he straightened his back. “And at least one infant”.  

“No”. Anora pivoted and rushed inside her bedchamber. “Erlina!”, she called for her handmaid. The elven woman already stood by Anora’s door, eyes big from confusion. “Help me get dressed. Let the braid be”. 

As Erlina hurriedly began to pick out a fitting outfit, the door was yet again opened. In the reflection of the mirror she sat in front of, Anora could see Ser Cauthrien and her entourage of soldiers. 

“No…”. Anora’s eyes locked with Daryn’s through the mirror, before she slowly got up from the velvet-clad stool. “Let me go, Cauthrien”. Anora detested that it sounded like she begged, but soon understood that it was exactly what she did. She begged, and she did so shamelessly. “Let me go to to my people”. 

Daryn swallowed, and was about to open her mouth when Loghain stepped forward. His voice was soft. 

“This is for your own safety, Anora. I know you are sorrow-stricken since Cailan’s passing, but I will not lose you as well. I have already lost… too many. You and Ferelden are all that is left. Seize her, Ser Cauthrien, or I will have your head for mutiny. Bring her to Arl Howe’s estate, and make sure she has a most pleasant stay. If so much as a hair on her head…”. 

“Yes, Your Majesty”, Ser Daryn Cauthrien answered. Her eyes pleaded for Anora to do as he said. 

“And bring that handmaiden you are so fond of”, Loghain told his daughter “I would not want you to be alone”. 

Erlina shivered with fear as one of the knights grabbed her by the arm, and the dress she had held in her hand sank down the floor. 

Cauthrien took a firm grip around Anora, and they began walking down the many hallways. Servants watched the display with widened eyes, as they now knew for sure that the power in Ferelden had shifted its owner. 

“I will send word to Bann Teagan”, she whispered in Anora’s ear. “He and his brother are on your side. I have heard whispers that are saying they are working in your favor”. 

She loosened her grip around Anora’s arm. “I am so sorry for this, Your Majesty. You will always be my queen”. 

“I know you are, Ser Cauthrien”. The cortege stopped before the carriage that was to take her and Erlina to the Arl of Denerim’s estate. Daryn proffered Anora a hand, but before the former queen of Ferelden stepped up into the vehicle of transportation, she put her palm against Daryn’s cheek. It was first then Anora noticed the glistening tears that wettened the knight’s cheek. “And it is not you whom I blame, my friend”. 

 

*

 

The hooded man dragged the carriage up the hillock, huffing and puffing. He looked back over his shoulder and watched the dark plumes of destruction towering up until it dissolved amongst the explosive colors of dawn. 

He stopped and slowly put the carriage down. It would take him half a day to get to the small fishing village on foot… maybe a bit longer, he thought with a glare at the carriage. 

He brushed off his aching hands against his pants before he walked around the carriage, carefully inspecting the confidential package he was transporting. He nervously shifted his weight. The toxin’s effects should have stopped working by now. A drop of sweat ran down his brow. His employer would certainly have him killed and forever relegated to the halls of the Fade if the package was damaged.

“Ugh”, he groaned. As if being exiled was not enough.

The morning sun had still not warmed the ground and it was a windy day. He sent the capital another glance. It would certainly not be easy for the residents of Denerim to stop the fire from spreading. 

The hooded man felt incredibly sorry for himself. How could anyone believe he was up for a task of this importance? But still, he thought, he had been given a second chance, and no matter how tough the trek to the village would be, he would rather die than give up. He looked down at his reddened palms. He had already accepted that they soon would be covered in blisters.

The quilt the package was wrapped in had slid down, and he leaned forward in order to tuck it back.  He stiffened as strong fingers closed around his wrist. He looked at the package and eyes, blue as the sea a sunny day, stared at him through heavy lids. Her eyes widened in recognition, and she let go of the grip. 

“It is you”, she wheezed between of pain clenched teeth.  

“Oh? You recognize me?”. The hooded man quickly pulled down his cowl and revealed a nervous smile. “Don’t worry, Sister Leliana. We are on our way to an old friend of yours. It seems like we both get our second chances”.

“This is more likely my third”, Leliana breathed out as she tried to sit up. “ _Merde_ ”, she managed to mutter between her coughs as she fell back down. 

“No! No, you shouldn’t move, Sister.  You have been through quite an ordeal, if I may say so. Electric shocks, smoke poisoning, and don't forget the dagger in your chest”. He paused as he rubbed his stubbly cheek. “And the toxin, of course. But I will tell you more about it later, or maybe it is better if she tells you. But I have checked you, Sister. You should be fine. Don’t worry”. 

“What?" Leliana rubbed her temples. "I do not even remember what has happened. Jowan, who are you taking me to?”. Leliana's face distorted as pain sharp as lightning thundered from her chest out to her every fingertip. 

“She said to tell you Mother Dorothea,  but...". Jowan unintentionally began to whisper. "I think she is to be the next Divine”. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. At least I really(!) tried to fool you. ;)


	49. Chapter 49

“We are here now, Sister”, Jowan said as he carefully let down the carriage. He grimaced as his ulcerated palms scorched. He knew that he would need to put balm on them, as soon as he could, to deal with the burning pain. “I would gladly offer you a hand, but…”, he continued and showed Leliana his hands. Leliana wrinkled her nose at the sight. The blisters looked almost contagious. 

“It is alright, Jowan, I can manage”, she assured him as she climbed out. She let out a puff of air as she stood on the ground. Her ribs jolted with her every breath; her body was battered, and the toxin kept her in throes.

Despite her efforts, Jowan noticed her strained expression, and he looked at her with a concerned wrinkle between his brows.  

“Excuse me for saying it, Sister, but I don’t think you can. Let’s get us in and I’ll take care of you”. 

They had stopped in front of a small wooden house that had a most insignificant appearance, almost rickety. The building was placed on the outskirts of a small fishing village Leliana never before had heard the name of. Jowan had explained that Dorothea wanted her visit to go unnoticed, and told her that her ship was by the village’s docks, disguised as a simple transport vessel.  

“You might be right”, Leliana confessed as she leaned against the carriage, holding a protective hand over her chest that had adopted the color of dark plum. “Is she…”. Leliana swallowed and sought Jowan’s flickering gaze. “Is she in there?”

“Mother Dorothea?”. Jowan nodded slowly as he approached her, and proffered her his arm. “She is, but not alone”. 

“And the ones I traveled with -- Solona, Wynne... Elissa. Do they know I am here?”

Jowan stood quiet before he answered.

“No. I don’t know if you remember, but when you first woke up… Did you see the smoke in Denerim?”

“ _Oui,_ of course…”. Her voice dulled. “It was hard not to notice it. I hope the Maker watches over them”. A beat. “And Marjolaine. Is she…?”

He took a deep breath, and Leliana felt her stomach knot. She suspected that she was not going to like what he had to say. He hesitated, and subtly shook his head.

“I'm sorry. As I said earlier… I think it is better she tells you herself.”

 

*

 

Elissa’s heart had not turned into stone, as she once believed it would. The dutiful organ loyally pumped the defiled blood in her as if nothing had changed. 

The moon that graced them with its presence, despite the blue sky, dueled the sun about the people’s attention, not caring about the death of another Thedasian. Why would it? The moon was eternal, life was not. 

She took an unsteady breath before she commanded Cammo to stop. The mare’s ears moved around as she tried to determine what the noises she heard were, and where from they came. Cammo calmed down as soon she understood it was only the flapping wings from the raven that was about to land on a nearby branch. Its talons grasped the branch, and the shift of unexpected weight made the emerging leaves dance.

Maybe, Elissa thought, it had been futile to even think that her heart would solidify. Leliana was dead, yes, but so was her entire family. A wave of shame moved through her chest. Gilmore, Nan, Truce, and Iona had disappeared to the Maker’s side, yet her heart had kept on beating as if nothing had happened. She had stared death in the face, and still somehow thought that the death of Leliana would have been the last her body could take. 

But no. The sun had set, and the sun had likewise descended. The stars still sparkled with the same intensity as before.

And her blood kept on pulsating to the ludicrous rhythm of life. 

Elissa’s knuckles whitened as her grip around the reins tightened, and a bitter thought crossed her mind: Leliana met the same type of death as Iona. Both her lovers had been murdered in front of her eyes, and she had done nothing to prevent it. 

The raven tilted its head, waiting for its presence to be acknowledged. 

“Are we close?”, Wynne finally asked, and the raven merely nodded before it took off again. Alistair sighed and made sure that Morrigan’s gentle horse’s reins had not had entangled. He had been kind enough to take the responsibility of tieing Morrigan’s horse to his, and he noted that both equine and equestrian seemed equally as happy to be away from each other. 

Elissa gently stroked Cammo’s braided mane before she clicked her tongue, and the group continued forward. The whole situation was ironic. Her heart did not turn into stone, no, but she was soon to enter the kingdom of it. She was still alive - even though she should not be - but would soon enter her own grave. Orzammar. The city of stone, built by the people who worshipped it. 

She glanced at her fellow Wardens. By the uncomfortable looks on their faces and their shifting in their saddles, they felt the same about Orzammar. 

They had sworn to together enter the halls of stone the day the Calling began to sing to them. Elissa wondered if Alistair would hold on to that promise even after he ascended the throne.

Ever since Denerim, it had not been the same. Solona and Alistair mostly held themselves to Wynne. Sten spent all his time with the horses, occasionally talking to Elissa. If Elissa had not known better she would almost have believed that he seemed to miss Zevran’s company as much as herself.

“If we turned right here”, Elissa murmured as they crossed an intersection, more to herself than her companions, “we would be on the way to Highever”. 

Wynne glanced at the road Elissa spoke of. “We could go there, child, if you want to. Alistair has mentioned that he wishes to see the fabled place where Duncan grew up, and I do not think the darkspawn mind if we take a small detour”. 

It almost seemed like Elissa considered it for a short moment, before she averted her gaze and looked straight forward. 

“No, maybe not. But the place should be crawling with Howe’s soldiers, and this... was not how I imagined my return anyway”. She let her eyelids close, and envisioned Leliana out in the castle garden, sipping on a cup of tea with Eleanor and Oriana, with Truce laying at her beautifully shoed feet. 

Solona’s voice cut through her reverie, “Elissa, Alistair… Do you sense them as well?”. 

“I know I do”, Alistair immediately responded. 

Sten’s head perked, and he grabbed his Asala. A part of him wished he also could sense the blighted creatures. It would be a huge advantage. 

“Darkspawn?”, he wondered, not expecting an answer. He still did not understand humans -- he was not even sure he wanted to, but he had come to recognize the glossy look that overcame the three wardens’ eyes whenever darkspawn were around. 

Elissa nodded as she unmounted Cammo. The mare could sense them too, and Elissa gave her a slight, comforting caress before replying. 

“Yes”, she said as the familiar tingling inside her skull increased in intensity, deleting the vision of Leliana drinking tea altogether. “They are coming for us”. 

She looked up the sky, squinting, with one hand already grasping the hilt of her still sheathed sword.

“Why is Morrigan never here when we need her the most?”

 

*

 

Jowan gave Leliana a questioning glance before he opened the door. Leliana held her breath. It was not as much due to anticipation or nervousness, as it was for it relieving her for the pain her injuries caused.

The cottage was sparsely decorated. Aged planks made up both floors and walls, and if it were not for the burning hearth that lit up a company of four that was seated on what Leliana assumed was quite uncomfortable stools and chairs, she would have come to believe Jowan had tricked her.  

She recognized the older woman in the middle of the group immediately. 

“Mother Dorothea”, she breathed out, her last strength leaving her. Tears burned behind her eyes. If Dorothea had been alone, she would have rushed into her arms. The looks on her followers' stern faces, however, told her instincts not to. Leliana's knees shivered with fatigue. Was it only two years since they last had seen? It felt like a lifetime. 

A young woman with a proud jaw -- not unlike Elissa’s -- and long, pitch-black hair took a daunting step forward with her eyes boring into Leliana’s. Under her cloak, Leliana could hint a perfectly polished chest plate, decorated with an engraved sun. She recognized it immediately as the mark of a Seeker.

“It is the next Divine you are speaking to, Sister", she demanded in a voice made of steel. "Show some respect!”. 

Leliana recognized the crisp, Nevarran accent which she bore, traced with the elegance of a noble, not a soldier. Leliana opened her mouth to respond, but could only gasp as pain once again took hold over her. By the look on Jowan’s face, he felt the pain as well; her fingers dug deeply into his arm.

Dorothea calmly raised a hand, her face not revealing her emotions, gesturing Cassandra Pentaghast to step back. 

“It is alright, Seeker”, she said. Her simple words were heavy with authority — she did not need to speak loud to be heard and respected. Not anymore. ”I have not yet had time to explain for her, and she needs to rest before I can”. 

Cassandra inclined her head, a muscle twitching in her jaw.

”Of course, Most Holy”. She then gave Leliana another look, first now giving Leliana’s sickly pallor a second thought. ”Pardon me, Sister”. 

”Leliana, this young woman is Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. I am to have her appointed as my Right Hand”. Dorothea tilted her head, first now letting worry deepen the furrows around the edges of her mouth. ”Jowan, bring her to a bed. We still have time to talk, Sister Leliana. Not much, since I can not stay for long, but enough for you to regain some strength”.

”No”. Leliana defiantly shook her head. ”I want, _need,_  answers”. She looked at Dorothea with pleading eyes. ”Please. I am delighted to see you, but… why here? Why now?”.

Dorothea sat quietly before she finally nodded, concern swirling in her blue eyes. ”I understand. You shall get your answers.”

She turned her head to Cassandra and the two others who accompanied her. Leliana assumed by their straight postures and vigilant gazes that they were the next Divine’s most trusted bodyguards. With a dismissive gesture, she commanded them to leave. When Jowan’s eyes nervously darted between the leaving party and Leliana who still clung to his arm, Dorothea put on a wan smile. 

”You may stay, Jowan. You can help me fill in the details”.

Jowan seemingly relaxed at that, and helped Leliana to a chair. 

”Are you alright?”, he wondered quietly.

”Not really”, Leliana responded truthfully with a forced smile as she finally sat down, ”but I have been through worse. Your spells and potions help a great deal. Thank you”.

”Leliana”. Dorothea leaned forward and grabbed Leliana’s hands with hers. First now Leliana realized how cold she was, since the older woman's hands burned against her own. ”How I wish I could have met you during other circumstances. Much has happened, young one. And I am here because I have a favor to ask you, but before I ask, I need to confess. The Maker knows what I have done, and he knows why. It is not to him I need to beg for forgiveness, but to you”.

Dorothea took a deep breath, and Leliana listened carefully.

”It is unofficial, but decided. Seeker Cassandra spoke the truth; I am to become Divine Justinia the Fifth. I only have one thing left to do before they can announce it.

”As you well know, should a Divine not only spread the word of the Maker, but also of the people. At some, turbulent times... it happens that the people need to be tested on their faith and loyalty, and at other times they need to supervised. I want to protect the people, I do, but also myself. I have plans for Thedas, which not all will approve of. I hope you understand, that I want the best for us all.

I never doubted your will or strength, my dear. Ever since I first met you, I knew you were meant for something great. The Maker seems to believe that as well”. Dorothea smiled wanly at Leliana’s confused expression. It reminded her of the lost girl she once had saved. ”Agents in Lothering heard you speak of your visions to your fellow sisters”, she clarified and continued;

”When I heard you no longer were in the monastery, I knew I had to find you. My agents are scattered all over Thedas, with no one to organize them. Not all of them have even heard of my name, and some are still unaware of that Beatrix no longer is in this world. May she rest in peace. 

You were gone, and I had no way to contact you. Then I remembered the woman who sent you into my life.”

”Marjolaine”, Leliana wheezed.

”Yes. If anyone knew of your whereabouts, it was her.”

”So you ordered her to find me and bring me to Denerim?”

”Not by myself, of course. You need to remember that I am not only to be the head of the Andrastian Faith. I will need to do things I would not dream of for the greater good. You see, I am also to be the head of the Game. I will be the most powerful person in Thedas, Leliana. Many will want to see me fall. I need to be prepared in order to make this world a better place."

”How... How did you get in contact with Jowan? And what is this toxin he speaks about?”

Dorothea shared a long look with him, before her calm, soothing gaze returned to Leliana.  

”The words of an apostate that tried to poison one of the most important men in Ferelden were whispered to me in the dark of the night. I knew it was not the whole truth, and I made sure to find him. It was not easy”.

”One of the agents she did have contact with found me”, Jowan interjected and continued the explanation. ”I got the second chance I had prayed for — a chance to redeem myself. An apostate without a phylactery has some advantages to a regular agent. The ability of healing… and, eh, the knowledge of magical potions that can make a person seem…”. He cleared his throat. ”Dead. Even to experienced mages such as Wynne. The soul enters the Void, and the body... pauses”.

”Elissa thinks I am dead? Do... they all think I am dead?”. Leliana’s vision got blurry, and she pulled her hands away from Dorothea’s. Her stomach cramped, and the taste of bile soured her sore throat.

”They believe Marjolaine put a poisoned dagger through your chest. Well, that _is_ technically true…” Jowan was now blabbering, and nervously rubbed the back of his head. ”The wound you got would not have killed you immediately. The saw teeth dagger she had _intended_ to use would have, and if not, the poison she had prepared for you would have… after a while. But I made sure to exchange the dagger to a regular one, covered in the rapid acting toxin I had made”.

”I… You want me to thank you?". Leliana's throat thickened. "No. _No_. I can not. Dorothea. I... I can not believe you sent Marjolaine after me”. Leliana let her incredulous gaze meet with Dorothea’s. In her eyes, Leliana recognized the wholehearted kindness that once guided her to the Maker's path, accompanied by unwavering compassion that was so sincere, so entirely _pure_ , that she almost crumbled under them... but in there, she also saw righteous determination. The same kind of determination she had seen in Marjolaine before an assassination, and in Elissa whenever she spoke of the revenge of Rendon Howe.

It frightened her.

”I would not have let you die, Leliana. Jowan was nearby, keeping an eye on you. But to know if you were up to the position I am to offer you, I had to see if you could do the right thing”.

”The right thing?”. Leliana's heart ceased to beat as Dorothea's features hardened. 

”Marjolaine knew your deepest secrets", she spoke. Not unkindly, only with a sharp edge of truth to it. "If you are to be my Left Hand -- my dagger, my shadow, and my whisper, we could not let her continue to walk these lands. I know, child, that you deep in your heart never wanted her dead. But a Left Hand can not be dictated by such sentiments”.

"So Marjolaine is... gone?". A blurred memory of Marjolaine, gasping among the flames, came to her. Leliana shivered. Had she really...?

"Yes. And that was all you. Jowan had no part in it". 

"All evidence has burned down", Jowan added. "There is nothing that can link any of you to it". 

”Is that supposed to make me feel grateful?". Leliana's eyes bore into Jowan's, and he averted his gaze. "'Thank you, Jowan, for letting me kill her', or 'thank you for burning down the whole city to save me?'". Leliana buried her face in her hands.

Jowan's face grew red. "I didn't start the fire!", he protested, with his hands flying up the air.

Leliana clenched her jaw and turned to Dorothea. Her dubious gaze crashed into Dorothea's devoted.  "Mother... Do you want me... you did all of this… you let them believe I was dead, so that I could be your Left Hand?”

”It is one of the most important positions in the world, Leliana. There are few I can trust, and many clerics are participants in the Great Game. The first person I could think of was you. You - a former bard who found the Maker’s path, and more importantly… my dear friend”.

”I…”. Leliana stared at her in disbelief.

”It is a rare sight to see you speechless”, Dorothea smiled kindly. The smile faded as she continued, "even though I understand your doubts". 

”I owe you my life, _everything_ ”. Leliana felt her throat go parched as her whole future crumbled. She had hoped to be by Elissa’s side once the Blight was over, to help her rebuild the Order of the Grey. If she was to be the Left Hand of the Divine… she had to be in a whole different country. And Leliana knew that Elissa would never abandon her duties. ”I will do everything you ask".

Dorothea looked pleased, and she leaned back in the chair.

Leliana bit the inside of her cheek. "But the crime Orlais wants me for?” 

The Revered Mother almost chuckled. ”I, the Divine, will appoint you as my Left Hand. It all will go away with a snap of my fingers”. 

Leliana fixed her gaze at a rusty nail, and she counted her breaths before she managed to give Dorothea the only answer she could. ”I can do nothing but accept… Your Holiness. It is an honor". Leliana inclined her head, not sure if she were to fall down on her knees in front of her. "My hands will be yours to command”.

Dorothea gently stroked Leliana's cheek, before she lifted Leliana's head by her chin. There it was once again, in her saviour's eyes. A kindness rarely seen, gentle and understanding. The righteous determination had disappeared and given room for a slightly amused twinkle.

”You do not need to be formal when it is just us, Leliana. And you do not have to accept the position. It is not true, what you said earlier, dear. You owe me nothing. What I did, I did, because it was the right thing to do. Nothing more, nothing less. I am tired of seeing the blood of innocents water the soil on which we walk.”

”And that is why I owe you everything, Dorothea. Everything. You risked your life for me, expecting nothing in return”, Leliana said, voice cracking. Warm tears trailed slowly along her cheeks. If it had not been for the motherly gaze that comforted her... ”But before I can be by your side, I have one last thing to take care of”.

”What is that, Leliana?”, Dorothea inquired with her soft lilt, genuinely curious about her plans, wiping away Leliana's tears with her thumb.

Leliana swallowed, and now it was she who held an unwavering determination in her steadied voice as she replied; ”I need to stop the Blight”.


	50. Chapter 50

The servant was just about to refill Eamon Guerrin’s glass of wine when Teagan, followed by a shivering young scout, threw the door open. Eamon raised a hand, gesturing her to stop.

Isolde gave her husband a nervous glance, as the scout’s eyes were wide and he gasped for air. His breaths almost echoed in the large dining room. Even Connor had paused eating, letting his gaze move between the unannounced man and his uncle. 

Teagan’s jaw was fixed and his eyes grim, and Eamon knew the two men were there to bring forth dire news. 

“Tell the arl what you told me, scout”, Teagan ordered, not wasting any time. The scout nodded, but initially found it hard to speak due to his dry mouth.

“My group was out, scanning our regular round”, he managed to sputter despite his panting, “and... we met a flock of darkspawn. Most of us fell”. His brows creased as he remembered his fallen brothers’ dying cries. “But the rest of us took care of them. But then… Then…”. He silenced, too terrified to speak of the horrors he saw, and what they meant.

“They saw a horde coming in our direction”, Teagan helped, filling in the blanks. “It is too large for us to handle on our own, but they are moving slowly. I believe they will arrive in Redcliffe in a couple of days. Brother, we need to evacuate. We can not stand back. Not this time”. 

Eamon’s head swirled. He was very well aware of what had happened at the Battle of Ostagar, and he knew what the wardens had told him. But still, the dangers of the Blight had seemed distant, and he admitted, that he had focused entirely on the royal mess. 

His fist flew down in the table, and Connor widened his eyes as he reached for his mother’s hand. Eamon’s men had only encountered minor, mindless groups of them, and few of the commoners that lived in the arling’s outskirts had reported of any troubling sightings. 

“What is your name, scout?”, Eamon asked as he stood up, with palms resting on the table. He could eat later. He was the leader of his people, and he had to do all he could to save them.

“I am called Leam, my lord”

“Thank you, Leam, for bringing this to my -- our, attention”. Eamon nodded for himself as he thought. “Teagan…”

“Yes?”. Teagan took a step forward, with hands clasped behind his back. 

“We need to alert the capital as well as the rest of the bannorn. I want you to send them a message immediately”. Eamon closed his eyes for a split second, trying to sort his mind. “We need to send our fastest riders to those who live in the more remote areas, especially those who risk getting in the horde’s way”. 

“I can help with the latter, my lord”, Leam helpfully offered. “I know of some good lads”. 

“That would be most kind. Thank you once again… See to it immediately. And Leam…”

“Yes, my lord?”

“I am counting on you…”. His voice dulled. “The whole arling are”.

Leam bowed and scurried away, eager to be useful. Teagan let his eyes wander over his family. He let his gaze rest on Isolde, who stared down her plate, aghast of the news. 

“Eamon… What am I to tell them?”

“Tell them…”. Eamon raised his hand slowly and began to stroke his beard. “Tell them that the South has fallen”.

He took a deep breath, and despite all he had endured during his long life, he suspected that this was among the hardest decisions he ever had to take. He was to abandon the place he called home, and by doing so, he gave his lands to the blighted creatures without a fight. “We need to prepare our troops for departing, as well as the people. Every battleworthy man and woman needs to be armed”. A beat. “Make sure the capital hears this. I would not like for them to believe we are raising an army against them”. He turned his attention to his wife and child. His expression softened as he noticed their worry. He would never again let something happen to them. They had been through so much already. “Go and pack your things, my dears. And please”, he pleaded with a knowing look at them, “pack only the most necessary”.

 

*

 

Anora walked back and forth in the room she was confined to. Erlina sat stiffly in an armchair, her feet tapping against the floor. 

“Erlina”, Anora stopped her pacing, and could not hide her annoyance. “Stop doing that. You are stressing me”. 

Erlina shrugged her shoulders. When there only were the two of them, she was allowed to be quite informal. A queen did not have a lot of friends around her, and even fewer confidantes. Over the years, Erlina came to fill that empty void. 

“Well, and I think you are stressing me with your pacing”, she quipped back, but did as Anora wanted and stilled her legs. 

Anora let out a heavy breath of air, burying her face in her hands. “You are right. I am sorry”. 

Another wail pierced through the air. Anora hurried to Erlina and kneeled in front of her, and the elf grasped her hands tightly.

“What do you think is happening to them?”, Erlina asked with a heavy voice. If the screams were so painful for her to hear, she did not want to know how it felt for them. 

“I… I am not sure I wish to know”, Anora answered truthfully. Something in the pit of her stomach twisted as another cry was heard. “I never thought Howe… was capable of such ghastly things. Our families have celebrated countless feast days together. I thought I knew him”. _And I thought I knew my father._

Erlina swallowed, caressing the queen’s hair as Anora leaned her cheek against Erlina’s knees.  

“I have heard Lord Howe and Lord Cousland were like brothers. And if Howe could kill the whole Cousland family… what would he not be able to do against strangers?”. A pause. “Or you, my queen”.

“He would not dare to touch me”. Anora tilted her head and saw into Erlina’s frightened eyes. She pressed her handmaiden’s hands, trying to give her some hope and comfort. “And not you either, Erlina. I would not let him. And despite what my father has done… He protects me. And you”. 

“Do you believe that?”

“I do”, Anora replied without a second thought. “Whatever he has done… I will always love him, and he will always love me”. Anora set her gaze on a dot in a tapestry. “In his own way. Of that, I have no doubt”.  She sighed tiredly. The never-ending screams and the odor of smoke made her head pulsate. To Erlina, the sigh almost made it sound as if she had given up. “I hope father is doing everything he can to stop the fire”. 

 

*

 

“This was much easier than you let on”. Isabela shook her head. “Believe it or not, but I am awfully disappointed. I was hoping to _at least_ get the chance to snap some fingers to get us in here”. 

“Oh, my magnificent pirate queen. Trust me when I say I believe you”. Zevran looked around the alienage. The streets were empty. “The fire must be demanding the city’s all resources, including the guards”. 

Isabela sniffed the air and shrugged. “Since last night I have a new story to tell my future grandkids. You want to hear the summary?”

“Absolutely, my darling”. 

“Hmm”. Isabela let a finger drum against her cheek. “To put it bluntly; I fucked a cross-dressing dwarf during the Great Fire of Denerim”. 

“I would not want you to put it any other way, and if you want my opinion, I am certain they will love to hear that right before bedtime”, he replied somewhat dryly before he warily began to stride down the streets. 

Something was wrong. Very wrong, even. Isabela noticed it too, and her expression turned serious in a whim. 

“I doubt a plague caused this”.

The streets should be cramped with bodies, and neither coughs or desperate howls traveled through the brisk air.

The clicking sound of a door unlocking was heard, and they both stopped dead in the tracks. A female elf with flaming hair peeked out from the small gap. She studied them for a minute, cautiously, before deciding that they did not seem to pose a threat. After a quick look in either direction, she waved to them to come in.

After a minute’s conversation with Shianni, which they soon learned was the elf’s name, it stood clear to them that the Alienage was not affected by a plague outbreak.

Only greed.

 

*

 

Leliana and Jowan watched as the ship disappeared in the horizon, with the course set on Val Royeaux. A part of Leliana longed to see the city where she grew up, but never thought she would see again.

The other part of her wished this was all a dream. She could not bear the thought of leaving the country of dogs, or those she had come to think of as family. 

“We must return to Denerim before dusk”, Leliana decided as the sails no longer could be seen. 

“Why Denerim?”, Jowan wondered while smearing his hands with a cooling balm. 

Leliana gave him a look he could not decipher.

“My companions, of course. As you might understand, I do not want them to keep on believing I am _dead_ ”.

“Yees…”. Jowan looked up from his red palms, flexing his fingers despite the straining sensation. “About that...”. If not his hands had been sticky, he would probably have raked his hair. “I’m truly sorry I dragged you into this, Sister”. 

Leliana said nothing as she inhaled the smell of saltwater, washed up seaweed and fish. 

Jowan fidgeted nervously, kicking on a stone, waiting for a reply that never came. The coastal wind grabbed for them, and Leliana stroked away hair from her face.

“I can carry you on the carriage back, if you want”, he then offered. Leliana smiled faintly at that, casting his palms a pointing glance. 

“There is no need, Jowan. And... you do not have to call me ‘sister’ anymore. Leliana will be fine”. 

“Will you be able to walk? I might have enough coins to buy us a donkey”. 

Leliana grimaced. “Thank you for offering that, but I think a bumpy ride on the back of a donkey will do more bad than good”. 

In silence, they began to travel back to Denerim. After half an hour, Jowan could no longer be quiet.

“I never thanked you”, he said, head hanging in shame. 

Leliana’s brows perked upwards. “What for?”

“Standing up for me back at Redcliffe”. He sighed. “I would lie if I did not say I was afraid to die, but still, after Solona released me, death was all I could think of”. A shuddering breath. “I deserved it. I still do, I guess. I miss Lily every day. I hope she is with the Maker, and that the day I pass away, I will get the chance to beg for her forgiveness”. A beat. “And I can’t even think of what I did to Eamon…”

“At least you helped us find Andraste’s Ashes”, Leliana interrupted him. Jowan looked at her in surprise.

“Andraste’s Ashes? That was what Brother Genitivi was researching?”

Leliana nodded. “You tried to set things right again, Jowan. That is more than most can say”. 

“I try”. He stared down the road they were walking. “I try”, he repeated under his breath, more to himself than to Leliana. He sent Leliana a shy, curious look.

“May I ask why you say you owe the Divine everything?”

“Because”, she said with a gentle voice after a moment of thinking, “I also have things to atone”. 

 

*

 

“Maker’s hairy balls”, Isabela cursed as she watched the caged elves reunite with their families. Shianni hugged her cousin, Kallian, and her uncle Cyrion Tabris, with tears brimming her eyes. They had all thought they never again would meet. “I suspected from the word on the street that this Loghain was bad news, but never had I thought he would do such a thing. All I hear about him is how much he loves Ferelden. How can he do this to his own people?”

Zevran shook his head. Isabela never did charity work -- she had a pirate’s soul, after all -- but he knew she had a weak spot for the weak and indefensible. She had a heart of gold and a tongue of silver. She was not one you would want to have as an enemy.

Zevran carefully put the documents signed by Loghain Mac Tir and the Tevinter slave traders in his pocket. It was the only proof of the evil deeds he had done, and when Elissa returned, she would know what to do.

“You know as well as I that elves are not ‘his people’”, Zevran sighed. “He needed money, and to him, this differs little from selling cattle”. 

Shianni met their gazes, and she approached them. She narrowed her eyes as she watched Isabela, who was splattered with the ‘Vints blood. 

“Thank you, _shemlen,_ for your help”. She turned her attention to Zevran. “And you. If you ever need any help, we all would be happy to repay”. Her shoulders slumped. “There are still a lot of us who are missing. I fear that several ships already have left”. 

“I am afraid you seem to be correct". He hoped that somehow, the kidnapped elves could be returned from their new life in slavery. He could however not continue to dwell on it -- Elissa had sent him on a mission. "Actually…”, he began instead. “I am looking for a girl named Amethyne. Her mother’s name was Iona”.

Shianni’s grateful visage changed into one of suspicion. “Why?”

“I am a friend of a… let us call it _friend_ , to Iona. Elissa Cousland. Do you know her? She wants to take care of the child, now when Iona has... left”. 

Shianni did not answer, but let her eyes wander over the crowded place. Her gaze stopped at an older woman, and she began to work through the throng to get through to her. Zevran and Isabela shared a look, and she shrugged unknowingly. 

“Was I supposed to follow her?”, Zevran wondered incredulously.

“How would I know? I have nothing to do with it”. She grimaced. “Er, you do know that I am not very fond of children?”. 

“I know you say that, darling”, Zevran said lightly. “But we both know it is untrue”. 

Isabela said nothing as she sat down on a wooden box. Zevran did have a point. Because of her own shitty childhood - if she even could call it childhood - she made sure to look out for the youngsters she met. 

“You ruin my reputation when you talk like that, _honey_ ”, Isabela muttered. 

Shianni soon returned with the elderly woman at her heels. “This is Misla”, she introduced her. “She is the matron of the orphanage”.

“The murder of the Couslands’ shook us all”, Misla said honestly, her wizen face split by a sad smile. “Many of us had relatives that worked there. We have heard nothing in the last months. Ah, poor Iona”. Misla shook her head. “So her death is… confirmed?”

“I am afraid so”, Zevran responded. “But you will have to speak to Elissa if you would like to know more. I do not have all the details”. 

“So… Is it true”, Misla asked, her eyes boring into Zevran’s, “that lady Elissa is alive?”

Zevran smothered a wan smile. If Misla knew of his true profession, she would not trust a word he said. “Yes. But I would appreciate your discretion in the matter”. 

“I… I brought the children back to the orphanage”, Misla said after a while. She wrung her hands, hoping she did the right thing. But she had no reason not to trust the man that had saved so many of them. “Amethyne is there. I would, however, like if she could stay here until lady Elissa shows up herself”.

“I understand”, was the only answer Zevran could come up with. To be fair, he appreciated Misla’s decision. He was mighty relieved not to have to babysit the girl until Elissa’s return. 

“And you two…”. Now it was Misla who shared a look with Shianni. “We are grateful beyond words for what you have done, but if you want to meet the children, you should freshen up first. They have been through a lot, and ought not to be reminded”. Misla gave their blood-drenched clothes a pointing glance. 

“You can borrow my bath”, Shianni offered. “It is the least I can do”. 

 

*

 

The orphanage was placed inside an old, withered building. It was not unique, though -- most buildings, if not all, in the alienage had the same grotty looks. It was a shame that most elves did not afford proper reparations. 

“Amethyne!”, Misla called as she opened the door. The house was dark, almost no sunlight made it in through the small windows, but it was clean and neat despite the old and worn furniture. 

A redheaded young girl sat in the corner, playing a game only children could understand, with a blond child by her side. 

“Meet Zevran and…”, Misla looked at Isabela who reluctantly filled in her name. “They know lady Elissa”.

Amethyne stopped playing as she recognized the name and looked up at the two in disbelief. “Ellie?”

Zevran nodded and brought up his journal. “Here”, he showed her. “You know her?”

Amethyne nodded, and seemed to relax. 

“She wants to visit you as soon as she can”, Misla explained to her. 

Amethyne was yanked in the sleeve by the other, big-eyed child who carefully watched the two guests.  

“And this is Sera”, Misla introduced Amethyne’s friend. She then turned to Zevran and Isabela, with a deep furrow between her brows. “We should continue to speak outside”.

“Of course", Zevran responded. He turned to Amethyne, who now fidgeted with her braids. "You can keep it”, he said with what he hoped was a kind smile and gave Amethyne the journal. “I can get another one”. 

The door was shut and Isabela leaned against the building’s wall. Boredom had a firm grip around her. She drummed her fingers against her arm, eager to leave.

“The children have been through a lot”, Misla admitted, “So if lady Elissa truly wants to take care of her, she must be aware of it”. 

Zevran could do nothing but agree with her, and after that, they said their farewells. Zevran promised to come back and visit the girl.

When he and Isabela finally left the Alienage, he asked, “would you like a drink, my beautiful?”

“Only if you make it a bottle and promise to compliment me throughout the whole night”. 

Zevran snorted a laugh. “What else could I do in your glorious presence?”


	51. Chapter 51

“Oh, no”, Leliana breathed as she let her hands cover her mouth. “ _No_ ”. Her voice was pained, even more so now, than it had been some days before. “Is it still…?”

They were kilometers away from Denerim, yet the acrid smoke already could be smelled and seen. The grey pillars of destruction reached up the sky. Her knees almost buckled beneath her. “I… I never wanted this to happen”.

“It wasn’t your fault”, Jowan said kindly, his brows mildly creased. It was, after all, not _her_ fault. “The city had to be rebuilt anyway... Maker knows it was needed”. 

Leliana shook her head. “Not like this. Jowan, I-- oh, I don’t even want to think about all who have lost their lives or homes. Those who have lost _everything._ And know that it is because of me”. 

Jowan stood quiet for a while. His head spun, but he suspected that there was nothing he could say that could soothe her guilt. “Come”, he said then instead, knowing that the sight of her friends would make her feel a bit better. He, however, would not. Jowan shuddered, afraid of meeting Solona and Wynne again. But this was not about him. Not anymore. Therefore, he cleared his throat and softly repeated, “Come. Let us see if the Pearl still stands”. 

Denerim was in utter chaos. It was hard to navigate the crowded streets, but somehow, they made it to the Pearl, where music still played and drinks were served. Sanga stood in a corner. Leliana could hint a smirk on her painted lips. Apparently, the fire was good for her business. The men who did not volunteer in containing its spread were glad to hide behind butts and bosoms while putting out their thirsts with beer.  

When Sanga laid her eyes on her, however, the smirk disappeared and gave room for utter surprise. It looked like she was about to rub her eyes, but decided it was not worth to smear the kohl. Instead, she began to stride towards her. 

“Can it be?”, she said, almost carefully. “Sister Leliana?”. Her eyes flickered to Jowan, and her brows knitted as she tried to comprehend the situation. Leliana did not even have time to open her mouth and affirm the bawd’s suspicions before she disappeared amongst her employees and clients. Sanga was not gone for long, and when she returned, it was with both Zevran and Isabela at her heels.

Leliana had never before thought she would be happy to see the assassin, but when his disbelieving countenance transcended into one of an almost childish overjoy, she was. 

“It is you!”, Zevran exclaimed grinning, his arms outreached. “I confess -- I thought someone had slid Sanga an herb with dubious origin!” Leliana fell into his embrace, and could not help but chuckle. “Oh, Leliana, how happy our dear companions will be when they return!”, Zevran continued when the embrace had ended. 

Leliana’s chuckle died out, and her eyes darted between him, Sanga and Isabela. “Return?”, she wondered. Her heart leaped to her throat, and threatened to choke her. Had they already left? She felt Jowan put a steady hand on her shoulder. 

“Yees...”, Zevran said slowly, and his smile faded. “They left for Orzammar immediately after your… well, death. The guards are ransacking every building for suspects, and Elissa was quite…”. Zevran rubbed the back of his hand. He was known as a smooth talker, and hade almost never found himself without words.

“The half-face was eager to leave as fast as possible”, Isabela said bluntly. She studied her and Jowan intensely, a curious twinkle in her eye.  

“Oh”, Leliana said again, not quite sure what to feel. She figured that her thoughts must have been right at the surface, because Zevran gently grasped her arms. 

“They were all devastated”, he said, not allowing her to avert her gaze. “Elissa most of all. I believe she had to leave because --”

“Because if she can’t run towards her troubles, she runs the other way. I know”. Leliana shook her head. 

Zevran smiled wanly and patted his chest pocket. “Dear Isabela and I have in the meantime discovered something I believe you would find most intriguing. Let Sanga offer us something to drink and I will tell you the tale of what happened in the Alienage. It has a happy ending, thanks to two most valiant saviors”. 

Sanga let out a small sigh, but obliged. “If there are some occasions that require free drinks, awakening from the dead and the celebration of solved mysteries must be amongst those. I will tell the barkeeper”. 

Isabela’s eyes shimmered as her eyes fluttered between Leliana and Jowan. “And _yours_ is certainly a story I would like to hear”. 

Jowan cleared his throat as he moved his gaze from her bosom to her eyes. Isabela grinned at him, and with a quivering voice Jowan said, “And I would be happy to tell you”. 

 

*

 

 

Solona painted invisible patterns in the blond curls upon Alistair’s chest with her fingers, and she pressed her nude body closer to him. He radiated safe warmth, and the skin on his neck glowed red. But it glowed not from heat, but embarrassment. 

“It is alright, love”, Solona reassured him softly, her breath tickling his crimson ear. “I was not in the mood anyway”. 

“It is just that with all that has happened…”, he croaked, in a desperate attempt to defend himself. Not that it really mattered. He gave his soft manhood a quick glance. It was only a consequence that he very well deserved. The consequence of death, destruction and most importantly… lies.

Solona buried her face in the nook of his shoulder. “I know”, she said quietly. Her esophagus felt constricted. “It feels... wrong, for me too”. It was harder for her to admit than she first had thought, and she pulled away from him, as if the distance were to protect her from the feelings that lured right beneath the surface. “Whenever we try, I think not only of her, but also of Lily... and the others at the Circle”. Her body shuddered. _I think of Cullen, caged and terrified, but I can’t tell you that, love._

Alistair turned around so that he was laying at the side, and he studied Solona’s profile, lit by the red light of the crackling fire. The soft tip of her nose, her long lashes. She was a radiant creature. His heart clenched inside his chest. How was he to break her heart?

He should have told her immediately, but the right moment never showed up. He cursed himself inwardly over his stupidity - his cowardness. He had wished to tell her for so long, but when it came to the core of it, he did not have the guts. 

He did not want to live without her. Even less so now, when he saw Elissa. 

He watched silently as Solona blinked away a few, glistening tears, not sure what to say. He did not want to see her sad, but no words could bring Leliana nor Lily back. No words could rewind the time. Even if it meant that they would never have met, he would have turned back the time for her, if he only possessed such an ability.

Instead, he did what he could, and pointedly let his eyes follow the small bed they lied in. 

“The dwarves do not seem very keen on letting their tourists sleep in a normal-sized bed”, he said, letting on a twitchy smile.

He was mighty relieved when Solona latched onto it. “Normal?”, she replied with an insecure smile. “It is normal for them. Maybe... they want our visit to be… you know. Authentic”. 

Alistair scoffed, and put his hand on the scar by her navel. His mood dulled yet again when he remembered where she had gotten the scar -- the Battle of Ostagar. Oh, how he wished he could turn back time. Not would only Lily and Leliana be alive, but… Cailan… Duncan. And the rest of his fallen brethren.

No, Alistair, he thought. Do not think like that. Duncan told you so himself in Haven.

It was their first night in Orzammar. Unfortunately, it did not seem to be as easy as they first had hoped to hand the dwarves the treaty. Just as Ferelden, Orzammar was divided and lacked a regent. Alistair had with feigned interest listened to Elissa and Wynne as they tried to explain how dwarven politics worked, but it had been for naught. It was complicated, and he stopped listening altogether when he remembered that he also soon would need to be a part of the game called courtly intrigues.

Frost whimpered as she sat by the side of the bed, resting her head on the mattress. 

”Oh, I am sorry, girl”, Solona murmured to her. ”There is no room for you up here”.

Alistair tilted his head. ”No room? There is always plenty of room for you! What is she saying?” The mabari looked at him with hopeful eyes as he tried to make himself smaller. When he decided that it was impossible to compress any further, he patted the space next to him. Frost happily wiggled her tail and jumped up on the bed.

”What a perfect little family we are”, Solona mused aloud, with a content smile curling her lips.

Alistair stayed quiet. There was nothing he could say that would not leave a regretful aftertaste. His heart clenched again, tighter. Absolutely nothing.

 

*

 

In another part of Tapster’s Tavern, Sten sat luring in a secluded corner with a disapproving look on his face. He was a warrior — no, more than that. He was a _qunari_. He did not fear challenges, and neither did he crave any earthly luxuries. But it seemed like even members of the Qun could have their limits with how much they could take.

It was hard to be a large qunari in a world built for dwarves, no matter the height of the ceiling. He did not only miss regular sized tables, but the sky, grass, and trees. He missed tending to the horses. And he longed away from the awful smell that oozed from the damp stones and the dried-in vomits that hid in places he least expected it. 

A few tables away, another dwarf began to sing a drunken melody in a language he did not recognize nor cared to know. As more and more joined in the melody, Sten grunted, and decided to leave. He had to retreat to read his scriptures — he refused to lose his way in such a decadent place.

He allowed himself to doubt that even the Qun could offer the cave-dwelling race any salvation. 

 

*

 

Morrigan and Sten did not have much in common, but apparently, more than they both could have imagined. They shared the same type of disgust for the dwarves.

Even though she had lived her entire life in the forest, and was by no means obsessed with hygiene, she found the little humanoids repulsive. The elves had, at least, some self-respect. Her lips curled in disgust as she accidentally leaned her arm on the table. The tables in the tavern were more sticky than the beds at the Pearl, and she could not understand where Wynne’s fascination for the dwarves came from.

“Well?”, Morrigan asked her with a sneer, “is the ale what you expected?”

Wynne looked down her drink with heavy-lidded eyes. “It is true”, she said, but instead of elaborating further she silenced, her eyes still fixed down the mug. 

“What is?”, Elissa wondered as she returned to them and fell down on the chair. Her expression grew worried when Wynne did not respond. “Wynne? What is true?” 

Wynne finally looked up and smiled sheepishly. Morrigan sighed. She had never thought she would need to babysit Wynne, of all people.

“Potent”, she drawled in response. “Dwarven ale is potent”.


	52. Chapter 52

Ser Daryn Cauthrien stared down at the red liquid in her chalice, trying to keep her breaths steady. Her hand trembled, and she absently studied every little ripple. For the first time this age, she had had a little too much to drink. The taste of wine lay like a bitter coat in her mouth, and her palate felt rough against the tip of her tongue. 

She suppressed the urge to smash her head against the table, knowing it would serve to no good use but receiving odd looks. But still, in her mind, she did. Over and over again, until her brow was trickled with dark blood.

Anora was locked up in the estate belonging to Rendon Howe, and she had done nothing to prevent it, like the loyal puppy she was. Instead of standing up for the rightful Head of State, she had quietly led Anora to her prison that was owned by the very same man who was responsible for the death of the Cousland’s. 

Her hands quivered when she opened the letter she dreaded to read. The unmarked wax crumbled and then, as she unfurled it, there it was. A piece of parchment that all subordinate lords in the teyrnir of Highever had carefully signed. Not only them — even Bann Loren, husband and father of Landra and Dairren Loren, together with some other petty nobles, had written their names in unforgetting ink. All of them opposing the rule of Loghain… and that of Howe. 

How was she to betray the man she owed her life? How could they even ask that of her? And if she agreed to join the scheme... if someone were to find out… her head would roll with them all’s.

Her stomach revolted, and within seconds, red vomit dripped down the table. She moaned in disgust, and received a not so sympathetic glare from the barmaid. 

“I am sorry”, Daryn murmured, feeling acidic bits and pieces of her earlier meal stuck between her teeth. 

“It is alright, Ser Cauthrien”, the barmaid replied in a tone that said the complete opposite. 

She was a lieutenant and one of Loghain’s closest men -- what else was the barmaid to say? Daryn, who still felt terribly sorry for her, took the letter and tried to wipe the table clean, but found she was only pushing the vomit down to the floor. It was as well. A letter of betrayal, of _treason_ , even, could not exist — especially not in her tied hands. 

Daryn sighed loudly as a young, puny boy approached her, nervously twisting the cap in his hands. A runner, probably. 

“Ser”, he said with his eyes fixed at his dirty hands, “The regnant wishes for you. He said it was urgent”. The boy shifted as he tried to remember the exact words he was to tell her. “Um, the Arl of Redcliffe and his family, including the Bann of Rainesfere, are apparently on their way to Denerim”.

“They are?”, Daryn asked, trying not to sound as surprised as she was. Had Eamon and Teagan already received her message regarding Anora being a captive? She gave the ruined letter a swift glance as she prepared to leave. 

Maker. What had she done? 

 

*

 

Elissa let her fingers brush the folded drawing Zevran had made of Leliana, not daring to look at it. Not that she needed to. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her. _Her_ songbird, Sister Leliana of Orlais, who now was nothing but smoke and ashes. And since she had been a simple songbird, and not a phoenix from the tales Leliana often told, that meant that Elissa never again would smell her scent or melt into her safe arms. Never again would Leliana’s eyes twinkle while writing a limerick, and never again would she gaze upon the landscapes or art she found beautiful. There were so many ‘nevers’. Too many.

Maker, it was all so unfair _,_ so... _wrong_ . Elissa clenched her hands, trying to aim her anger inwards, not wishing to disturb her companions, as she thought that Leliana deserved a better ending. Their last conversation had consisted of fruitless bickering over Isabela, and then… they did not even have time to say farewell... Not even a last goodbye where they allowed. And Elissa could not stop dwelling on it. Why? Why did the omnipotent Maker not even _try_ to save her, if He now did send her a vision? Why?

Guilt and sorrow plagued her constricted chest, and Elissa blinked away the mist that had formed in her eyes. Everyone she loved had been forced to lay down their lives, and it seemed she always was unable to protect them. She closed her eyes and remembered all times Leliana had sent her a saving arrow, or even acted as a shield in order to protect her. And how had Elissa paid her back? By letting Marjolaine steal not only her freedom and innocence but her very breath away?

Her loved ones’ deaths were nothing but the result of the strangling roots that originated from her physical and mental weakness. No more, she swore to herself. No longer. 

Death was truly a disease and she would do everything in her power to save those whose hearts still beat, no matter the costs. The ends would have to justify the means, and for once Elissa was sure Duncan would have agreed with her.

A blue vein of lyrium shone up in the stone ceiling, reminding her of a night sky, for a second almost tricking her into disbelieving where she truly was. In all honesty, she was clueless, not knowing if it was night or day. The maps given to her by Prince Bhelen was old, and the Legion of the Dead was reluctant to loan them theirs -- since they would probably not come back, anyway. 

For how long had they roamed the halls of the forgotten kingdom? Elissa guessed it must have been over a week. At least it felt like it since Solona’s coughs had disturbed the rest of their’s sleep, leaving them fatigued. They were too tired to be bored, too tired to speak.

The endless, eerie dark kept staring back at them. The deep stalkers awful screeches kept echoing against the stones, and the odd sensation of the constant presence of darkspawn was taking its toll. It was difficult to keep alert and cautious when danger always was close by, but not yet assailing. Wynne had expressed she feared they were becoming sloppy.  She was probably right.

Wynne was now snoring audibly in the bedroll next to Elissa’s, restlessly tossing and turning, with pearls of sweat forming on her wrinkled brow. Elissa herself felt her own tunic clam onto her drenched skin. 

They had ventured down the Deep Roads, and it was nothing like she had expected. She had expected chilly rocks, cool air, and pools of cold, clean water. Instead, the stale air was sultry and hard to breathe, since the halls of the former Dwarven kingdom were heated by magma, and the water that had not evaporated was stagnant.  

The fire crackled, fueled by the smokeless coal that once was invented by Branka. Solona’s body was thrashed in another coughing fit. Elissa dragged herself up in a sitting position and curled her head into her knees. She could distinguish Alistair and Oghren’s shadowed figures in the distance, as they patrolled the outskirts of their area.  

Elissa frowned as she thought of their new companion. Oghren could be described with many epithets, and none was especially favorable. He was a foul-mouthed, malodorous drunkard and was considered a laughingstock amongst his fellow dwarves. He had even been stripped of his family name, since he was seen as such a disgrace.

But he was, on the other hand, devoted to helping them find Paragon Branka, his wife, even though the rumors Elissa heard stated that their marriage was not an overly happy one. But it did not matter, and even if it did, it had to due, as he also knew his way around the Deep Roads. They had no other choice.

If Orzammar were to aid them against the Blight, the kingdom needed a ruler. Elissa felt conflicted. Despite being a Grey Warden, she once again had to meddle with political affairs. She only hoped that Branka still was alive after all this time in the Deep Roads, and that she was able to vote on the man she wished to see on the throne. 

Wynne stirred as Solona coughed anew, and soon she jolted up, wide-awake. She leaned over her former apprentice, and motherly brushed away a drenched strand of hair from Solona’s face.

“Solona”, Wynne said softly, caressing her cheek with the back of her hand. Elissa recognized the motion from when she herself had been sick -- it was both a gesture of tenderness as one of practicality; Elissa could tell Wynne was checking the temperature. “How are you feeling?”

Solona opened a bleary eye. The warm, humid air affected her lungs, but luckily, it was the only affliction she got. The calm visage Wynne wore told Elissa that Solona did not have a fever nor suffered from any further symptoms. Elissa hugged herself, grateful. It would be most difficult if anyone of them were to fall ill down here.

“I am alright”, Solona said somewhat feebly. “I just need to get used to the air”. 

“Good”, Elissa commented, leaning her head against her knees while looking at them, “I am glad to hear it”.

Solona smiled wanly to her, and both she and Wynne tried to return to sleep. 

When their breaths evened and it sounded like they’d fallen asleep, Elissa silently slid out of her bedroll to make a torch. Unseen by both Alistair and Oghren, she wandered off in a futile try to distract her mind, hoping that at least the restlessness in her legs would disappear. She sighed heavily. In a few hours, they had to continue to walk further into the roads. 

After a few minutes of walking, she stopped, as a small river hindered her path. She looked back over her shoulder and was startled to see how far she had come -- the camp was not more than a small dot in the distance. She could see no longer than a few meters before the heavy darkness consumed whatever was there. She hunkered down by the waters, trying to stare down the depths, almost expecting some kind of monster to emerge. 

She winced, when not a monster but a familiar voice broke through the stream’s soft burbling.

“Despite that I do not distrust your capabilities, Commander, I would suggest not to wander too far off”.

Elissa could not tell if Morrigan was being sardonic, when she saw her step out of the shadows, potentially plotting to hinder any escape. Oh, Morrigan knew her a bit too well, since it would not have been the most far-fetched thought for her to just disappear into the darkness. Morrigan stepped closer, and the torch’s flames made shadows dance across her face as she too stared down the waters.

“At least…", Morrigan hesitantly added, "not without a friend”. 

A brief quiet fell, and Elissa used her forearm to wipe away some sweat from her brow. “I fear the river here already stopped me”, Elissa responded dryly. If Morrigan had just waited for a few seconds with showing up, she would have seen Elissa’s scarred face. Elissa sighed once again. She would have to wait to clean both the mask and the almost sponged skin beneath. 

“Luckily enough. I for one would not like to get lost down here”. Morrigan was not too fond of confined spaces. She turned her eyes from the dark waters to the blue veins that trickled the stones above them. “Lyrium is a most interesting substance, don’t you think?”. She licked her parched lips. “Can you hear it sing, Elissa?”

“... No? Should I? Do you hear it?”

“I do not know if you should or no, but yes, I do. It is... beautiful. Mythical. I can not help but wonder if Solona, and maybe even Alistair, hears it as well. I know Wynne does. Raw lyrium is toxic, fatal, thus only the resistant dwarves can mine it. But is it not so, that the most dangerous things, also are the most enthralling?”

“I am not so sure I agree”, Elissa said after a short while. “I… I do not think the archdemon, for instance, is especially... ‘enthralling’”. 

Morrigan’s lips curled in a cryptic smile. “Oh, then it is only me”. She turned, prepared to leave, but stopped for a mere moment to add; “but did you not find Leliana’s mysterious ways enthralling in the beginning? And, is your every waking minute not spent thinking about the archdemon?”.

While Elissa did not reply, she followed Morrigan’s back with her eyes, as the Witch of the Wild’s began to saunter back to the camp. Elissa turned to look back at the glowing ceiling, unwilling to admit that Morrigan was not incorrect in her assumptions.


	53. Chapter 53

“Oghren?” 

Elissa interrupted the dense silence that lay heavy over the party. They almost mindlessly wandered the sultry corridors, hoping to find some clues to where Branka was residing, or rather, hiding. If she now was alive at all. Elissa began to have her doubts, and a lump formed in her stomach. How could anyone live down here with their sanity, and to not speak of their health, intact? 

“Aye, warden?”, Oghren grunted. He did not seem to share her doubts, as he was adamantly convinced that his wife was still alive.

His alcohol-drenched breath made Elissa crinkle her nose. “... Are you reading the maps right?”. She crouched down and touched the pile of damp stones she had built the last time they had passed there. The small stone pillar resembled those of the Chasinds’, and for a second, she allowed herself to remember Baba Ceaţă and the rest of the tribesmen. “We are walking in circles”, she added, her voice croaked. 

Frost whimpered at the news, and Alistair let out a groan, rubbing his face. His chin and cheeks were covered in stubble that, by now, rather resembled beard. 

Oghren huffed and studied the weathered map, lighted up by the blue flames from Wynne’s staff. He shrugged his shoulders while scrunching his eyes. “Ah!”, he expressed shortly thereafter. He readjusted the map in his grimy hands, grinning. “Now”, he said, not even looking a bit ashamed, “it should work better”. He huffed again. “It all looks the same, doesn’t it?”

“Mmh”. Elissa shared a long, exhausted look with Morrigan who merely rolled her eyes. “I guess it does”. 

  
  


*

 

It took what Wynne believed to be another four days until Elissa began to hear a pulsating humming. The first time her ears picked up the strange sound was when her drug-addled mind tried to filtrate out the aching noise from her own beating heart, and after that, it refused to leave her. The hums worked their way into her dreams and all of her thoughts, poisoning her with promises of sweet nothings. Both Alistair and Solona heard it too, and at times, they stopped dead in their tracks, consumed by the sound.

Elissa could not stop wondering if this was what the Calling sounded like, and she was equally as frightened as anticipated at the thought. Morrigan had been correct; it was beautiful. Hauntingly so. 

“Shush”, Solona ordered in a hushed whisper when they had set up a new camp, and all of them, pale and fatigued, sat and stared into the burning embers. She had discreetly pointed towards the blue veins. It almost looked like they were beating.  “I think they hear us”. 

“Who?”. It was Sten, who had been unusually quiet lately, that asked. 

Oghren, who savagely ate his bronto-meat, not minding the grease dripping down onto his beard, grunted in response, “The stones, of course”, he explained at Solona’s behalf. “They hear everything”. 

“Yes, yes. It makes sense”. It was Wynne who seemed to be deep in her thoughts. She moved to rest her sunken face onto her knuckles, curiously looking at Oghren. “Do they speak as well?”

Oghren paused eating to take a long swig from a bottle, and then slowly blinked his eyes in a nod. “When they have to”, he said simply, as he burped and patted his chest. “When they have to”. 

  
  


*

 

Solona turned in her bedroll, restless in her light sleep. Alistair sighed heavily as she pushed him out of their bedroll, for the second time this night. At least, he comforted himself with thinking, she no longer suffered from the gut-wrenching coughing fits. 

A pearl of sweat rolled down his neck, and he slid out from beneath the blanket and decided to instead sit on the hard stone. He heard the muffled voices of Wynne and Morrigan, and he assumed to sleep would not come lightly to him.  

The canvas of their tent was covered in small droplets, the result of the humid air. Alistair glanced at the small candle-end that struggled with illuminating the small space. He fished up two fresh candles, and lit them with the flame from almost burnt out taper. He carefully placed the two lit candles beside him, and after making sure Solona was still asleep, he brought up his journal. He froze as one of the candle-holders fell, and a metallic ringing was heard as it clashed into stone. Swiftly, he placed it up again, inwardly cursing as heated wax glued to his fingers.

He let out a breath as Solona only squealed drowsily at the sound, and continued to lightly snore, her mind still wrapped up in the Fade.

After removing the hardened wax from his skin, he opened his journal. Alistair held his breath as he watched the pressed rosebud. With quivering fingers, he carefully cupped it in his hands, as if it was an old relic. 

Maybe Leliana had been right. He was pathetic not to have seen it earlier; to give the dried rosebud while explaining it all to Solona was a bit lamentable. The dead petals in his hands would not soothe the pain the truth would cause.

He stiffened anew as Solona turned around, her clammy skin glistening in the red candlelight. 

“Cullen”, she murmured. “Cullen”. 

Alistair looked down at his hands. They had closed into fists, and as he slowly unfurled them, small pieces of faded red sunk to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is probably the shortest chapter I've ever written.


	54. Chapter 54

In the seething pit of her stomach, Solona felt the growing urge to retch, as the air tasted of the synthetic, saccharine lyrium she had come to detest. It was worse than the Song. Much worse. Her every breath filled her with memories from the Circle, memories she had hoped, maybe longed, to forget. 

In this very moment, she could not help but think that the sour taste of burning, acidic vomit would be preferable. It would push away the remembrance of Cullen’s flavor, as their tongues met. As it would push away the memory of the child they never got to hold. As it would push away the memories of Lily and Jowan, as they together studied through the night, burning the midnight oil. It would have pushed away the cold burns from the emotionless stares of the Tranquils, or the ringing cries from praying mages who abhorred what they had become.

It would push it all away.

Alistair walked several steps in front of her, with Sten by his side and Oghren on the other. She watched the man she had come to love’s square back. He had acted oddly the last days, more so than usual. Something was on his mind. It remembered Solona of the time before they first went to Redcliffe. Her stomach writhed. How much had not happened since then? How much had they not changed?

His drolly remarks had gradually lessened over time, his eyes had hardened. Darkened, at timed. Become burdened. But by what? Was it still the loss of Duncan and the warden-brothers she herself never came to know? 

While his arms still welcomed her, they were holding on to her too firmly. As if he feared that it would be their last embrace. But why? Why become distant, only to then hold her so tight?

A creature howled in the distance, and Solona was startled, almost tripping on her own feet. She grasped the stone wall, hindering her fall. The staff slid out of her hand and fell onto the ground. She grimaced as her heart slowly began to cool down, and she straightened her back. She looked down at her hands, frowning. A thick layer of slimy fungi covered her skin. 

“How did it go?” Alistair was immediately by her side, picking up the staff. He avoided looking into her eyes. Why did he look away when she wanted nothing more than to gaze into the safe harbors of his eyes? Why had he changed so? Or was it she who had transformed into something new, something unfamiliar?

Solona wiped away the slime against her robe before taking the staff from him. He furrowed his brows and hesitated, before letting a soft hand touch the bared skin of her wrist for a short, fleeting moment. Solona was prepared to lean into him, to forget whatever it was that nagged her, when he abruptly pulled away, and returned to Sten and Oghren’s side. 

Solona stared incredulously after him, wishing that he came back to her. He did not. Neither did he look over his shoulder to make sure she was alright, to give her the assuring smile of his. Instead, she only felt the weight of Elissa’s curious eyes on her, and Solona tried to play indifferent. While she was unable to fool herself, maybe Elissa could be. She began to slowly rub the slime into the fabric, hoping it sooner rather than later would dry. She needed to wash her clothes whenever she had the opportunity, anyway. The scent of lyrium had to be washed away.  

A small sigh left her, and Solona closed her eyes and let the distant humming of the Stone grow more intense. She needed a distraction, and there was nothing more distracting than the Song.

A last glance on Alistair’s back. This was not the time to bring something up. Not yet.

“We all should keep talking”, Wynne said, breaking the monotonous sound of their footsteps. Solona cast her a sidelong glance. She sounded tired, and her brow was creased. Was she in pain? Or was it simply the Song that affected her in that way? “It’s the only way for us to stay vigilant”.

While Solona hummed an answer, none began to speak. Wynne held in a sigh. At times, she had wished her companions to be quieter. How many nights had she not lay wide awake because of their heated conversations and joyous singing around the campfires? But here, now when they really needed to talk, they did not. 

“Some scholars call”, she instead began, “the Stones’ song the Voice of the Maker. I find the melody soothing”, she admitted, “while it at times is indeed…”, she trailed off, seeking a word that would not come to her. She shook her head.

“Disturbing?”, Solona helpfully proposed, as she put her staff on her back.

Wynne, illuminated by the blue light emitted from her staff, turned to her, smiling faintly. “Maybe”, she mused. “Maybe”. 

The party continued forward in silence. Frost, for once, resembled more of a lapdog rather than one of war -- she kept close to them, seemingly afraid of leaping blindly into the dense blackness. Elissa thought it was wise. Bravery took lives, as seen by Truce’s, Gilmore’s and countless others’ fates. 

“I had a dear friend once”, Elissa said after a while. “Roderick Gilmore”. She smiled to herself. “No one was allowed to call him by his first name, and you should have seen him the day he became knighted. Then it was _Ser_ Gilmore. Oh, how he always bragged about it”. She fell quiet again and Wynne, who was grateful someone tried to keep up the morale by talking, strode up to her. Her staff dragged against the dusty ground.

“How did you two meet?”, she asked gently. 

Elissa thought for a short while, before she began to speak. “He was a pageant to one of my father’s officers. Nan and I were out in the castle yard one time, and the officer had raised his hand, prepared to strike Gilmore for something he had done wrong”. She knitted her brows as she tried to recall the event. “What had he done wrong?”. Elissa’s shoulders slumped. “Why can I not remember?”

Wynne briefly put a hand on Elissa’s arm, saying, “sometimes, the most mundane occurrences can grow in importance, and it is first afterwards one realizes it. Don’t blame yourself for not remembering, dear. The milestone was not his mishappening, but that you two met”.

“... You are right. Thank you”. Elissa drew a deep breath. “However, Nan would not stand it. She scolded the officer, and after that, Gilmore and I were inseparable. The officer never raised another hand against him, and he would probably have outranked him if he...”. Her voice faded, as she no longer trusted it to bear the truth.

“Your Nan sounded like a good woman”, Wynne said. Her eyes were as soft as the clouds Elissa dearly missed. Kind. All that Elissa felt she did not deserve.  

“She was the best... Even though she did resemble a mabari at times”. 

Whatever response Wynne held for Elissa was forgotten when a shivering Morrigan paced up to them. Morrigan’s and Wynne’s staffs stood close, the blue flames embracing one another, reaching higher towards the ceiling that separated them from the endless skies. 

“I cannot wait until we leave this place”, she said, almost whispering. She probably did not want Alistair to hear that she, after all, possessed a weakness. 

Elissa sent her a glance. “I thought you found the Song ‘enthralling’?”

Morrigan snorted. “The Song, yes, but certainly not being trapped underground”. 

Elissa rolled the amulet of the Warden’s Oath between her fingers, staring into the abyss in front of them. “You are a shapeshifter. Why not only shrink yourself? Like, to a mouse?”

Morrigan glared. “Yes, because it is my enormous size, and not the amount of rock over my head that is the problem. And”, she added, “a mouse? I am fairly certain Solona would have stomped me to death”. 

“Solona?”. Elissa’s brows raised. “Why?”

Morrigan’s lips twitched. “Because of the Circle, of course. Have you not heard?”

Wynne’s lips shaped into a small smile as Morrigan turned her head to Solona, speaking loudly enough for her to hear. “Not only did she meet a demon manifesting as a mouse during her Harrowing, but in the Fade at the Circle, she was transformed into one”. 

Solona coughed, before nodding, her face slightly contorted. “Ugh, Morrigan. Don’t remind me”. 

“I have heard of Mouse”, Elissa said, “but I missed quite a lot at the Circle. Leli --”. Her voice broke as her heart suddenly panged. Loss and guilt injected out into her bloodstream, flowing out to her every limb. “Leli”, she tried again, steadying her voice, “told me some of the Fade. About the… demons, manifesting as --”.

“Yes”, Morrigan said. “You should have seen it -- it was ridiculous. They could not even manage to get Flemeth right”. 

Wynne’s smile had faded. “I am of a different opinion, since I, a Harrowed mage -- a Senior Enchanter -- who has roamed the Fade since tender age was tricked”, she slowly admitted. “To fall for a demon is easier than I earlier would have thought. All my life have I…”. She paused. “That is why the existence of Circles are essential”.

Morrigan snorted. “Ever the loyal Aequitarian”.

Elissa sought Solona’s eyes anew, thinking of something she had since long forgotten. “Solona. Leliana was unwilling to tell me of what she experienced in there. Would you tell me what you saw? Please. I beg you?”

“What good would it do?”

Elissa shrugged her shoulders, her eyes large, pleading. “Maybe none, but I will not know if you do not tell me”. 

Solona let her eyes drift between the three women, before moving to the oblivious men in front of them, lingering a little longer on Alistair’s back. She cleared her throat, before staring down her walking feet. Tears began to burn behind her eyes. 

“Alright. If that is what you truly want”, she said and swallowed hard. “She saw you. You were playing with a child outside a house. Your child, your house. That was her deepest desire. She wanted you and a place to call home. And who could judge her? We all want to have our own, safe place in this wicked world”.  


End file.
